Everything’s Falling (2026)

Five albums in, and The Warning still refuse to coast. Everything’s Falling has been billed as the sisters’ most personal record yet, and after sitting with all 12 tracks, I believe and agree with it completely. This isn’t a band chasing a bigger sound or trying to prove they still belong in the conversation. It’s three sisters who already know exactly what they’re capable of and letting every version of that show up on the same record all at once. The tenderness, the venom, the theatrics, the icy control, all of it, side by side, like they finally stopped choosing which parts of themselves to bring to the studio. Buckle up!

Ritual opens the record already spiraling, and Dany’s fierce guitar work here is some of the grimiest of her career, which, if you know anything about this band, is saying something. Her vocals sound noticeably more mature and controlled too, which is a wild sentence to write about someone who was already this good. Pau’s drumming is unconventional and locked in at the same time, somehow, driving toward a grungy, nasty breakdown. Lyrically it’s claustrophobic on purpose, a spiral through anxiety where beauty gets read as a warning sign instead of a comfort. The self-deprivation running through it (the missed meals, the lost sleep, skipped medications) plays almost ceremonial, like punishment dressed up as ritual. By the time it collapses into that exhausted, repetitive running, you’re out of breath right alongside them.

Then Perfect Daughter flips the whole thing outward. Dany brings a genuinely new vocal delivery here, anthemic in that 2000s way without sounding retro, and those backing harmonies echo hard enough to live in your skull rent-free. The breakdown is new territory for the band and it works. Lyrically, it’s a direct reckoning with conditional approval and lost innocence. No vague hinting here. Looking the source of the pressure dead in the eye and calls it what it is. Respectfully: I have never once been called a “perfect daughter,” but I get the sense this one’s for the girls who were expected to be, rather than the dashing man I am.

The title track, Everything’s Falling, slows everything down with the record’s power ballad, and it fights to be the best three and a half minutes on the album. Ale and Pau’s backing vocals carry the same weight they brought to Keep Me Fed, under guitar lines that genuinely weep, all wrapped in enough 90s/early-2000s drama to make you nostalgic for the era. Dany’s most emotive vocal turn on the record lives here. Underneath the drama, though, it’s burnout, plain and simple, the kind that comes from a system that profits off you regardless of what happens to you. “But if I die / At least you're paid” lands so flatly transactional it stops the whole thing cold.

Why Do You Like It When I Cry? snaps the attitude back on with a strong riff and one of Dany’s best falsetto hooks to date, with belting that rivals all of her past performances. It breaks my brain, the sustain and range she’s able to achieve here. Ale’s bass is up in your face here, matching the song’s point-blank, ballistic imagery. What gets me is how tight the group vocals are, angelic harmonies sitting directly against all that intensity and somehow not clashing once. And there it is: Pau’s scream, back again. If you’ve been paying attention across albums, you know this one’s a through-line to past records. Error on ERROR. Apologize on Keep Me Fed. Now this. Used the exact same way every time. Sparingly. Purposefully. Never once overdone.

Bite My Tongue widens the target from a person to an industry. The drum work is distinctive, the bass sits forward, and the group vocal and riff mimicry is new for the band and pulled off with such confidence. There are synth fills tucked into the choruses too, another first for the sisters, tasteful enough that they never step on or distract from the actual sound. Bite My Tongue is a pointed shot at industry patronization and the objectification of female artists, sliding from suppressed rage into a colder, more calculated kind of power where silence becomes the weapon instead of the surrender. The turn where they vow to be a good muse purely to spite the person demanding it is the best kind of petty. Don’t you girls stop!

Kill Or Be Killed takes all that defiance and turns it inward until it curdles. This might be the best hook on the whole record, built on an aggressive riff, a fever-curing helping of cowbell, and drum fills that hit exactly where you want them to. It’s also a serious flex for how wide Dany’s range has gotten, with Pau and Ale’s backing vocals only growing stronger the deeper you get into this record. Lyrically it’s a villain origin story, self-loathing flipped outward into threat instead of staying inward as guilt, staged with enough theatricality that it plays less like a breakdown and more like a choice. A deliberate one. The bad-guy arc, but they’re directing it themselves.

Bad. Ass.

Then Ego comes in and answers with a completely different temperature. Where the last track ran hot, this one runs cold, genuinely icy. It’s another one of Dany’s grimiest riffs, right up there with Ritual, sung entirely in Spanish, delivered with total, unbothered swagger. Instead of fighting critics, the song looks straight through them, turning vulnerability into power and indifference into total control. Success gets treated as the only comeback worth giving, and the whole track carries itself like someone who’s already won and can’t be bothered explaining how. Pau screams “NO, NO ME DIGAS, NO” to say think whatever you want as a detail in service of the song’s icy confidence.

Bloodsport thumps with unmistakable Garbage influence and another vocal performance that shows real growth from Dany. There’s a real connection here to Amour off ERROR, the same appetite for toxic devotion, just with the power seat swapped this time around. But what really gets me is how much fun this song is having with its own darkness. Bloody knuckles, kiss-the-ring demands, a full arena’s worth of theatrics, and somehow it all plays flirtatious instead of frightening. This is toxic love dressed up as a dare, and I would like to formally accept.

Break is where the record actually breaks your heart, and given everything the sisters have said about this being their most personal album, this is the track where that claim really sticks and strikes you in the heart. It’s the softest moment here, strum-forward and vulnerable, with a vocal cadence that manages to feel rushed and patient in the same breath, landing somewhere close to an early Avril Lavigne anthem. It’s about codependency and the exhaustion of loving someone in an endless loop, wanting the clean fracture instead of one more round of suspended limbo. The central image, something bent out of shape against something fully broken, makes an oddly convincing case that the second option might be the kinder one. I don’t know who hurt you girls, but I’d like five minutes alone with them.

Bruises snaps everything back into confrontation, opening with a riff that hits like a punch to the face before dropping out entirely and just letting you sit in the silence for a second. The bass and drums come rushing back with real urgency. The bridges and outro echo the same instrumentation that made Escapism off Keep Me Fed so effective. Lyrically it’s about accountability, pulling abuse out from behind a polished public image, the bruises themselves standing as proof that no amount of makeup, media training, and forced smiles can cover. Forgiveness is treated as a resource the offender can no longer afford.

Then Waste Your Time On Me turns the whole record sideways into pop-punk territory, and it’s a genuine surprise. If you’ve ever wondered what The Warning would sound like on a Warped Tour bill, here’s your answer. Urgent and anthemic and built for a stadium full of people screaming it back. It never loses its melodic footing even at its grittiest. The song tackles screen addiction and the hollow dopamine loop of doomscrolling, but the real hook is the pivot: if you’re going to waste your time on something mindless, waste it here instead. Waste it on her. Waste it on me. It’s less a warning about your phone and more an invitation, and it works. I’m sold!

And then, Kerosene. The closer, the hit, and honestly the song with everything you could want from this band in one place. Power, attitude, a riff that sticks, drums that pound with an unexpected disco pulse underneath, driving bass, real angst, and a dance that’s spreading just as fast as the song itself. Dany’s range and belting here should settle any remaining debate about her as one of the most talented vocalists working today. Lyrically it’s about jealousy and imitation, the fury of watching someone copy your identity while hiding behind fake politeness, and the dare at its center (to show your teeth instead of hiding hostility) is exactly the note this record needed to end on.

By the time Kerosene fades, Everything’s Falling has taken you through panic, confrontation, collapse, villainy, ice, devotion, heartbreak, justice, digital isolation, and release, and somehow never once feels like too much. That’s the real trick of this record. Twelve songs, ten different emotional registers, and not one transition feels like whiplash. Five albums in, The Warning haven’t just gotten better. They’ve gotten braver, more confident, and more themselves. Everything’s falling, sure. But these three just keep landing on their feet.

—————

Highlight Songs

• Ritual

• Kerosene

• Why Do You Like It When I Cry?

• Kill Or Be Killed

• Everything’s Falling

Own it, Stream it, Forget about it? Own it. This is not a background-noise record. It demands the physical copy and the full attention span.

Album Ranking: 5 Stars. No brainer.