Vince Lee’s Single Review: Criminal by Grem Warrington
Let’s get this out of the way: Criminal is deliriously alive and kicking. And that’s why it works. You don’t need grad-school exegesis when the riff smacks you in the chest, the organ flares like neon in a dive bar at 2 a.m., and the brass (thank you, Ricky Chaplin) kicks the whole thing into overdrive. This is rock music with its tongue out, its shirt half-buttoned, and its heart thumping so loud you can feel it in your ribcage. Grem Warrington has been through some epic wreckage — MS, addiction, despair — and he didn’t just survive it, he weaponised it.
So when he sings lines about obsession and surrender, they don’t sound like cheap doggerel scrawled on the back of a napkin. They sound like gospel, barked from the edge of the abyss by someone who’s been there and still found a way to smuggle back joy. His voice is ragged and insistent, the kind of voice that convinces you to stay out way too late, order another drink, and maybe even dance on the table while you’re at it. The song is about young love, reckless love, stupid love — the kind that makes you grin like a maniac and say “lock me up” because you’ve already thrown away the key. It’s a celebration of the ridiculousness of desire, the slapstick tragedy of wanting someone so badly you don’t care what you sound like when you scream it to the sky. And that’s the secret: the lyrics aren’t trying to be clever; they’re trying to be lived, shouted, sweated, and remembered in your bones.
The solo draws on the blues, hauling the racket into tradition, tipping its hat to the ghosts of every backroom bar-band, then kicking it loose with fresh swagger. The horns give it a kind of unhinged soul revue energy, like Wilson Pickett met AC/DC in a basement and decided subtlety was for the faint of heart. By the time the chorus slams down again, you’re not analysing, you’re not critiquing — you’re in it. You’re moving, laughing, sweating, remembering what it felt like to be ruled by desire and refusing to apologize for it. Criminal is not subtle, not clever, not cool. It’s better than that. It’s fun. It’s alive. It’s a reminder that rock should be wild, ridiculous, excessive, and still capable of pulling your body into motion against your better judgment. In 2025, that’s not just refreshing — that’s radical.
