And so Joey gradually emerged all of a sudden in late 2025: the product of the imagination of Canadian-American musician Joe Corcoran. Joe (not Joey) wanted to hear something particular. A cocktail of swagger, anger, wit and ridiculous enthusiasm. The kind of sound that makes you want to dance, laugh, scream (each one embarrassingly), and put your fist through a wall. Joey (not Joe) was the “guy” to make that sound. And Five Star Record, the debut album from Joey Romo, is that cocktail.

The Janusian Joe(y) produces, engineers, mixes, plays guitar, bass, piano, trumpet, trombone, harmonica and sings. Performing alongside JR are jazz legend Chris Speed on Tenor Sax and Clarinet; avant-garde composer Leah Paul on Flute; drummers Matt Mayhall (Aimee Mann), Porter Chapman (Bad Heather), Les Nuby (Verbena) and Jamie Wollam (Tears for Fears); Mindy Gledhill (Kaskade), Emm Gryner (David Bowie) and Jess Gordon lend their background vocal talents; with Patti Kilroy (Yoko Ono) and Gabe Cabezas (ymusic) on violin/viola and cello.

Five Star Record owes its unique sound to a series of rules which simultaneously eschew technology and embrace it: sampled instruments are avoided; tempos are irregular; all guitar parts are performed on a single, late 60s department store instrument; all piano recorded using an iPhone microphone. The result is a sound palette that feels both otherworldly and familiar.

“Great Now What” kicks things with a slice of 4-chord retro-pop ear candy sandwiched between slices of over-toasted noise-rock. “We Shout It Out But We Don’t Talk About It” takes misunderstandings out to the garage with its trashy drums and broken guitar tones. On “Beginning to See It Your Way,” Joey shows off his softish side with a folk-pop nugget that’s just-the-right-amount of tarnished. “What Gives,” with its blistering groove, splattered horns and hyphy harmonies belongs on Little Steven’s Underground Garage. For the album’s lone cover, Joey interprets Emm Gryner’s darkly-witty, “Survive” with a deft touch that begs the question: could Timothy B Schmidt and Captain Beefheart be the exact same person?

To open side B, “Six of One, Half Dozen of the Other” puts a stranglehold on the meaninglessness of societal labeling with the enthusiasm of a preacher and the vocabulary of a wild animal. Joey and crew follow with sludgy anxiety-anthem, “Tightrope” before taking an abrupt turn for the Nilsson-esque epic, “Inventing It All Again.” “Next Generation Thing” gets things sweaty once again before the album’s sardonic closer, “Curtains.”