By: Bobby Chrisman The first thing to understand about The Journey is that Eleyet McConnell has absolutely no interest in being fashionable. This is both their greatest strength and, depending on your tolerance for classic-rock values, their greatest liability. In an era where rock often arrives wrapped in irony, electronics, or self-conscious reinvention, husband-and-wife duo Angie and Chris McConnell are still making records that believe in guitars, choruses, emotional confrontation, and the radical notion that sincerity might actually be enough. Most of the time, it is. The Ohio-based duo’s sophomore album is rooted firmly in the traditions of seventies rock, drawing from a musical family tree that includes Heart, Bad Company, Jefferson Airplane, and occasionally the moodier side of Pink Floyd. Those references aren’t merely decorative. They’re structural. The band builds songs the old-fashioned way: verses that establish conflict, choruses that provide release, and arrangements that understand the value of dynamics rather than perpetual volume. Fortunately, they also understand something equally important: songs matter. Angie McConnell emerges as the album’s defining presence. Her voice isn’t perfect, which is precisely why it works. Rock and roll has never required perfection; it requires conviction. Whether she’s confronting betrayal, self-doubt, resilience, or redemption,