Jail Socks – It's Not Forever | EP Review
/
My first encounter with Jail Socks was shrouded in mystery. Sometime in December of 2018, I stumbled across a tweet from @thisbandfucks claiming “Jail Socks has RIFFS,” and that was all I needed.
The video in question showed the band playing the outro of “Freshman Year” at a house show. The room was dimly-lit, the instrumentals were tight, and the crowd was shouting along enthusiastically. All you can really make out in the low-res video are three vague figures flipping their hair and jamming out.
That one minute clip scratched the insatiable part of my brain that’s constantly-hungry for twinkly emo riffs and ended up sending me on a search for Jail Socks’ music, but I quickly discovered there wasn’t much of it. I found the emo trio on Bandcamp, downloaded everything I could, and then spent the better part of 2019 listening to their four available songs spread across one single and a split.
I had already memorized every word of the group’s music by the time No Sleep Records announced they signed the band in February of 2019, and as a budding fan, I had never felt more affirmed. Needless to say, after seeing the band play live multiple times throughout the year and listening to their four songs literally hundreds of times, It's Not Forever has been one of my most-anticipated releases of 2019. Turns out, even with all the hype, expectations, and near unbearable build-up to its release, this collection of songs was absolutely worth the wait.
Opening track “Jake Haplin” is a re-recorded version of the same song off No Promises, which is so fully-realized here that it retroactively makes that earlier rendition of the song feel like a slightly more whiny demo. Now featuring tighter instrumentation, sharper vocals, and a fully-instrumental outro that leads directly into the following track, it’s incredible how much life the band was able to breathe into a song I’d already listened to hundreds of times.
The song begins with a pinprick-precise guitar riff courtesy of guitarist and lead singer Aidan Yoh that feels like a rush of caffeine traveling directly to your brain after your first sip of morning coffee. From there, the rest of the band enters the fray, launching into a bouncy emo riff with jagged fist-pump-inspiring beats. After a minute of straight riffage, that energetic excitement boils over and lulls to a subdued hum that makes way for the now-iconic first lines of the song as Yoh shouts.
“I’m only smoking to feel the satisfaction of warm hand
I know I can’t freestyle, but I swear
I’ll come back from this.
I’ll come back from this.
I swear”
After these tearful promises to return from some unspecified physical or emotional space, the group quickly picks up speed again and returns to the rolling emo riff that kicked off the song. From there, “Jake Haplin” bleeds directly into “Parting Words,” blending that same sparkly guitar line into a newly-energized bout of lyrical optimism placed over Colman O'Brien’s steady drumbeat. “Parting Words” builds to a similar instrumental drop-out midway through, clearing room for Yoh to belt:
“AND THE WAY YOU LEFT ME
HAD ME THINKING
THAT I'D DONE SOMETHING WRONG
OH BUT I'D FORGOTTEN
THAT IT WAS YOU
ALL ALONG”
Yet another line that feels primed for screen-printed art cards, Tumblr quotage, and backyard stick and pokes, these lyrics strike an interesting balance between hyper-specific for their author and general enough that a broader audience can project their own experiences onto them. This relatable lyricism combined with Yoh’s group-chant-esque vocal delivery mold together for an unforgettable and instantly-catchy moment that will grab your attention and stay stuck in your head long after your first listen.
Lead single “Poplar Avenue” is perhaps the most energetic track on the EP, weaving a fast-paced tale of a deteriorating relationship all within a few lines, interspersed with tight instrumentation. Throwing the listener straight into the deep end, the band bursts in with a hard-charging and bassy riff as Yoh expresses drunken statements of regret, exacerbated from spending too long on the road:
“I wish I never said those things to you
That at the time I really thought I meant
When I called you drunk from Memphis, Tennessee
I couldn’t comprehend the gravity of things to come”
After Yoh beats themself up for alcohol-assisted faux pas, the track opens up allowing some of the most evocative lyricism on the entire EP to emerge:
“The way you pressed your lips on to my neck
And no I don’t consider you a friend
God knows I still wish you all the best”
As the lead single, I feverishly devoured “Poplar Avenue” the day that it came out, listening probably dozens of times within the space of the first 24 hours. Emotions and excitement were already running high when I first hit play on the track, but the lines above evoked such a visceral reaction from me that I began to wonder if the band had firsthand knowledge of every relationship I’ve ever been in. First I got chills, then I got goosebumps, then my eyes began to well up. It’s the closest an emo fan ever gets to being “shook,” and I was shaken. These lyrics are followed closely by astute observations that can only have been made by someone in a deteriorating relationship.
“Softly spoken in your bedroom
See your phone light on the ceiling
Lets me know that you’re not listening
Why can’t I get through?
You in my arms is all that I need
So why can’t,
Why can’t I,
Why can’t I get through to you?”
In the back half of the EP, things slow down a touch. “Sunlight” sees drummer Colman O'Brien and bassist Jake Thomas taking center stage with one of the song’s most hard-hitting rhythm sections. Meanwhile, the penultimate “Freshman Year” is yet another re-recording off No Promises, seen here rendered in a more produced, honed, and precious light as Yoh reminiscences on bygone friendships, romances, and late nights of high school.
Possibly the EP’s greatest achievement, six-minute closer “Steering Wheel” is a poignant and carefully-crafted emo track that feels at once hopeless and optimistic. Opening with an acoustic introduction, the full band eventually comes in with a bombastic crash of cymbals and bass before developing a masterful slow build. Over the course of the song’s six minutes, Yoh paints a picture of an existence plagued with nostalgia, regret, and betrayal.
In what feels like a thesis statement for the entire release, “Steering Wheel” finds Yoh coming to an important realization in the form of the EP’s namesake before the band launches into a meditative instrumental break:
“You always said that I would run when shit got tough
I hate coward I’ve become
I hate the things I’ve done
But I keep reminding myself when the days are long
It’s not forever”
It’s here that the EP’s title finally makes sense. Yet another example of lyrics that are (obviously) meaningful to their creators while simultaneously being relatable enough that anyone listening can grasp on and fill with their own meaning. The lines evoke hazy memories of friends who may still live down the street, or you may never see again. It feels like youthful exuberance and hopeful romanticism swirling together. These lines act as a reminder that nothing is forever; friendships, relationships, family, pets, sadness, happiness, memories. It’s the knowledge that all of this is fleeting. Some of it may be good, some of it may be bad, but for better or worse, this will never happen again, and that’s something we often lose sight of.
It’s Not Forever is a labor of love. It’s the result of years of touring, basement shows, and honing their craft. This is most directly evidenced by the change from the early versions of songs like “Jake Halpin” to these newer renditions, but it’s also seen in the lyrics sprinkled all throughout the album. This EP is also the result of years of life; years of experiences, feelings, and emotions sometimes long-bottled up, now poured on to canvas for all to see. It’s reflective, cathartic, and deeply-feeling.
It’s Not Forever is an absolutely fantastic unveiling to the world, and the fact that it’s not even the group’s first full album makes them one of the most exciting and promising acts in modern emo. It’s hard to quantify all of the passion and life that went into this release, and trying to picture all that might happen between now and the band’s next collection of songs makes my head spin, but one thing’s for sure… It’s not forever, and we’re lucky that Jail Socks are here to remind us of that.
