Nick Bellerose’s The Only Way Is Through is the kind of album that seems to materialize exactly when you need it most. I stumbled into it blindly and found myself wrapped in a fragile, necessary kind of solace. Heartbreak was heavy in the air; Bellerose, whether he intended to or not, offered a hand through the fog.
The record opens with “Our Love Is Gone,” a devastating introduction that sets the emotional temperature for what’s to come. It’s not so much uplifting as it is guttingly honest, a slow bleed rather than a clean break. Bellerose’s voice, raw and quietly pleading, delivers one of his strongest performances, carrying the ache in every note.
Elsewhere, the folk-worn “Hold Me” leans into a vintage softness, evoking early Dylan in the 60’s. The harmonica lines and understated vocal phrasing conjure a bygone era, but Bellerose wears it like a lived-in jacket, not a costume.
“That Night” feels like the emotional centerpiece. It’s a beautifully rendered snapshot of memory, aching with the weight of what’s gone. “Camila” circles back to the record’s tendency to break your heart just when you think you’ve steadied yourself. But it’s the closer, “Since I Laid My Eyes On You,” that finally flickers with something resembling hope: a tentative reaching forward, a quiet belief that maybe, just maybe, love could still be waiting somewhere up ahead.
The Only Way Is Through is an emotive album about love, heartbreak and trying to connect.