PHONY – Heater | Album Review

Counter Intuitive Records

I’m a known short album enjoyer, and Heater, the new album from PHONY, just might be the best example ever. The record is a scant nine songs that add up to a grand total of 21 minutes; that’s just two minutes longer than I Became Birds or your favorite Joyce Manor album. It makes sense then, that in 2021, the latter would enlist Neil Berthier to play guitar and synth in support of their then-upcoming record 40 oz. to Fresno.

While his ongoing Joyce Manor tenure might net him a lot of cred in millennial emo circles, Berthier has been creating excellent records under the PHONY moniker as far back as 2019. That’s not to mention the half-decade he spent fronting the now-defunct Donovan Wolfington. So it should come as no surprise that Heater is as refined and punctual as it is. This is the sound of someone who’s been at it for over a decade, and this album specifically sees PHONY refining the pop-punk formula into a glossy collection of shredders that are pointed, addicting, and deliver a complete arc within the time it takes to watch an episode of Spongebob. 

Things kick off with “Caroline,” a re-recording of a song initially released as a one-off single last year as a prelude to PHONY’s third album. While I had assumed Caroline was doomed to obscurity as a non-album loosie, it’s nice to hear the song here perched at the onset of a new record, gaining a well-deserved second life in the process. In comparing the two versions, it’s fascinating how they each embody their respective “eras” so well: while the 2022 Caroline is still peppy and energetic, it fits better in the disaffected, disorienting, and death-obsessed world of the album that came after it. In contrast, the 2023 Caroline is snappier and scrappier, with a brighter vocal take that signals to longtime fans they’re in for something different than last year. 

Following this revisitation of an old single-name classic, PHONY spends the remainder of Side A ripping through the album’s three singles in reverse order. “Card In A Spoke” springs to life with a bouncy drum pattern that sounds like a dribbling basketball or a heartily-thrown dodgeball. This is only the warm-up though, because everything explodes to life when the rest of the instruments slam into the track about 24 seconds in. Wielding a snotty pop-punk riff and hard-charging rhythm section, Berthier desperately searches for signs of life and a sense of time following a crashlanding on alien terrain. The group can hardly wait a minute before getting to a guitar solo and then rolling back into the chorus again, ironically making the listener also feel like a card in a spoke getting beaten with the repeated prongs of energy stemming from the band. 

“World You Love” begins with a waltz but quickly builds into a full-body ballroom sway as images of bloody sidewalks and brain-frying boardwalks flash between cathartic cries of “REALLY WHO GIVES A SHIT!?” One proggy guitar solo later, and we’re dumped off into “Chinatown,” the album’s lead single and one of my favorite songs of the year. Perhaps the closest to the maudlin vocal stylings of AT SOME POINT YOU STOP, this song has a fun drum beat and attention-grabbing opening moment as Berthier explains to some faceless other, “You were built for speed, and I was built to last.” From there, the song slides headfirst into a jumpy punk section as we hear tales of sunshine and tequila shots delivered in an enthusiastic shout. 

After a pretty relentless outpouring of energy over the first ten minutes, “Roof” acts as a solitary moment of reflection before jumping into the record’s back half. Based around a simple piano line, this track is the perfectly placed interlude slotted right in the middle of the album and almost feels like a mirror to last year’s “KALEIDOSCOPE.” More a scene-setting exploration of drunkenness and disconnection, some studio chatter punctuates the minute-long excursion before the album’s remaining four songs swoop us back into the pop-punk mayhem.

Just as was the case with the first half of the album, almost each of the songs on Side B boasts a catchy hook, cocky vocal delivery, and flashy guitar solo. Things rarely dip below 100 bpm, “Water In Your Wine Glass” is the closest thing the album gets to a “slow song,” and even then, PHONY can’t help but build up to a snappy little guitar solo midway through. Similarly, “County Line” eases into things with a somber beginning, but that only lasts about 20 seconds when the band roars to life for the chorus. 

Heater resolves on “Pass The Ball,” a song that touches on touring life, alcoholism, and learning how to commit to something. To me, this song is really about partnership and learning how to share yourself with someone else, whether that be in a romantic, platonic, or creative setting. The lyrics promise, “You could really have it all / if you learn to pass the goddamn ball.” This mantra is delivered calmly at first but then in a near-scream by the end. As the title of the song is repeated, the guitar crescendoes into a post-rock wall of noise and, most shockingly, some Sweater-Song-esque “oooh ooohs” appear to sing the listener off. All in all, it’s a very big swing that ends up feeling like the perfect closer to a blisteringly fast record. 

I know I’ve talked a lot about the speed and tempo of these songs, but it’s surprising just how amazingly everything flows when placed together. These tracks feel like an amazing synthesis of emo and pop-punk, all delivered in a style that feels true to this project and Berthier’s last ten-ish years of music-making. It’s stunning to hear an album this complete and fulfilling delivered in just 21 minutes, and the crazy thing is you can just let it all roll from the top again.

Up until now, I haven’t talked too much about AT SOME POINT YOU STOP, the PHONY album that came out before this one. That record was one of my favorites of 2022 and fleshed out a world of emotional indie rock unlike any I’ve ever heard. While it was an album about death, loss, and reconfiguration, the bigger question it leaves the listener with is what comes after. Heater, it turns out, answers that question with an emphatic collection of songs where life flashes by at superspeed. These songs are the sound of someone experiencing existence after a sort of cosmic reset that rendered everything before it null. They’re fast because that’s exactly how things unfold in the real world. When I throw on this record and the songs each blaze past me, I’m reminded of this fact. Everything is fleeting, and we’re just lucky to be here taking in the scenery—a card in the spoke, flickering along and enjoying the ride for as long as we can.

The Best of Q3 2022: Part 2

Remember when I published an article about the best albums of Q3 2022 and tagged it with ‘Part 1’? Well, guess what? Over a month later, here is Part 2! I may have been a slow writer lately, but I still wanted to highlight some of the albums from this past summer that have been resonating with me. 

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Alex G - God Save The Animals

Domino Recording Company

Indie music’s favorite weirdo is back. Between shaking his booty like a maniac and scoring off-kilter indie movies, Mr. G has thrown together yet another collection of soon-to-be-classic folk tunes with an oddball bent. While it’s about as catchy and abstract as any of his previous releases, God Save The Animals feels far more spiritual than any other Alex G album thus far. In an interview with The New York Times, the artist admitted that faith has been on his mind these past few years, explaining, “I don’t really have a set of beliefs, but it seems like a place everyone has to go at some point.” This is reflected in songs like “Blessings” and “S.D.O.S.,” but pays off beautifully in “Miracles,” where the personal and spiritual intersect in one of the best songs of Alex G’s entire career. 

Birthday Dad - The Hermit

Refresh Records

Sometimes an artist’s bio is so good that I just end up copying the whole thing into one of these write-ups. Birthday Dad is one of those artists. Their Spotify bio reads, “Imagine if Bright Eyes locked themselves in a room for a year and only listened to Jack's Mannequin.” Yep, that’s Birthday Dad to a T. Seeded by singles “TV Dinner” and “Death Too,” The Hermit is an album concerned with the unfeeling mundanities of life. Whether it’s the ennui of your nightly garbage run or the nostalgic comfort of playing Pokémon on your Game Boy Color, Alex Periera’s songwriting is consistently cutting, clever, and honest. The end result is a phenomenal and endlessly relatable debut that isn’t afraid to speak from the heart.

Death Cab For Cutie - Asphalt Meadows

Atlantic

I don’t think I need to sell anyone on Death Cab For Cutie in 2022. The band has been a known entity in the alternative rock sphere for basically my whole life. That said, as with any legacy act, their music has waxed and waned quite a bit over the last decade, from the mid-career high of Narrow Stairs to the relative low of Codes and Keys and the mixed bag of Thank You For Today. To me, the band began to right the ship with 2019’s Blue EP, specifically the slow-burn closer “Blue Bloods,” which embodies all the characteristics of my favorite Death Cab songs. 

Asphalt Meadows is not a return to form in the sense that the band is retreading old ground, but it feels like they’ve regained their quality control. Album opener “I Don’t Know How I Survive” rolls out slowly until about a minute in when a blown-out noise rock assault upends every expectation you entered the record with. From there, the band continues to explore new sounds that still feel distinctly Death Cab. On the upper end, there’s a jangly new wave bounce on “I Miss Strangers” and killer guitar work on “Here to Forever.” On the other end, the band experiments with some striking spoken word delivery on “Foxglove Through The Clearcut,” which vaults from a subdued monologue to a sweeping emo build that feels reminiscent of the band’s oldest material. Overall, the record does a masterful job of alternating back and forth between peppier songs and moody tunes, resulting in a satisfying LP that feels exciting, exploratory, and rejuvenated, yet familiar and comforting. 

Future Teens - Self Help

Triple Crown Records

People talk a lot about “sad” music in relation to artists like Phoebe Bridgers, and that’s fine, but for my money, nobody cranks out truly sad songs like Future Teens. While it’s not as slow and plodding as anything on Punisher, the music that the self-described “bummer pop” group makes broaches topics that feel far more honest than sad for sadness' sake. Sometimes it feels like sadness can become an artist’s “brand,” and as soon as that happens, it all begins to ring false. Future Teens have always been like this.  

The lyricism found in the band’s music has always been confessional to the point of worry; like these are things that should be written in a journal and discussed with a therapist rather than put to music. The group uses simple terms to paint scenes of shitty mental health, substance abuse, and failing yourself. Throughout the album, the perspective bounces back and forth between the two guitarist-singers Amy Hoffman and Daniel Radin, which keeps things dynamic and interesting. These are songs where just getting out of the house and going to Target counts as a victory. For the litany of personal trials depicted throughout the album, nobody summarizes the band’s creative ethos better than themselves when they belt, “Feeling bad, at least it’s something.”

PHONY - AT SOME POINT YOU STOP

Self-released

I’ve written a lot about “death albums” recently. On paper, AT SOME POINT YOU STOP is yet another entry in this lineage. The third album from ex-Donnavan Wolfington/current Joyce Manor guitarist Neil Berthier primarily centers around the passing of his father, but it’s also about much more than that. Capturing grief with a wide-set lens, this record is as much about loss as it is about everything that comes in its wake. 

The album deftly juxtaposes internal emotions and external forces for a collection of conflicted tracks that range from the melancholy sway of songs like “THE MIDDLE” and “SUMMER’S COLD” to peppy punk on “GREAT WHITE.” There are glitchy amblings, trip-hop detours, and drunken diversions, but ultimately, the heart of the record can be found on “KALEIDOSCOPE,” whose melody makes a reprise in the closing song. 

As we follow Berthier’s loss and subsequent journey across the country, the LP congeals into a woozy late-summer emo masterwork that’s truly emotive in every sense of the word. A devastating record less about death itself and more about the void that it leaves. As signaled by the title, AT SOME POINT YOU STOP is a record about life continuing on even after weathering an event that levels your emotional landscape. 

A Place For Owls - A Place For Owls

Self-Released

Are you a little too earnest? Have you been known to profess your emotions through overwrought sentiments? Do you feel things cataclysmically? Well, A Place For Owls might be for you. The self-titled debut from the Denver-based indie rockers is packed wall to wall with heartfelt lyrics and sweeping sentiments. Drawing inspiration from indie rock greats like The National, Frightened Rabit, and Manchester Orchestra, as well as more modern extensions of the same artistic mindset like Julien Baker and Caracara, APFO is a broad and expansive piece starring a band that feels everything deeply and isn’t afraid to report their findings directly to their audience. If “Emo Kid to Sad Dad” is a pipeline, nobody has canonized that journey better than A Place For Owls.

The Wonder Years - The Hum Goes On Forever

Hopeless Records

I’ve spent the better part of my adulthood in the shadow of The Wonder Years. When I was graduating high school, they were graduating college. As I made my way through college, they navigated their place in the world and rationalized their life choices. I lost friends, and so did they. At every step of the way, lead singer Dan Campbell has written honestly about the struggles that have come with each phase of his life. Depression, loss, heartbreak, and addiction are all ongoing candid discussions within The Wonder Years’ catalog. At the onset of their career, the band navigated these realities with pop-punk power chords, but, over the last few albums, have shifted to a hefty alternative rock punch. Their music is the definition of cathartic, and you don’t have to look any further than a single concert snippet to see hordes of people screaming these lyrics back at the band to understand. I am far from the first person to have found peace in this music. 

When Dan Campbell sang, “Jesus Christ, I’m twenty-six / All the people I graduated with / All have kids / All have wives / All have people who care if they come home at night,” I was a fresh 20 years old. I recognized the sentiment but didn’t truly identify with it until I found myself on the other side of college committing myself to creative pursuits as piers settled down in relationships and started families. Similarly, on The Hum Goes On Forever, Campbell paints a picture of his life as a father and all the struggles and spiritual victories that come with it.

The band’s seventh album is the first substantial update we’ve had on the members’ lives since 2018’s Sister Cities, and (obviously) a lot has happened since then. While I can’t fully relate to the sentiment of fatherhood, the band does an excellent job of translating the ups and downs of parenthood to their army of lifelong fans. Hum contains the usual mix of upbeat singalong bangers, classic callbacks, and some exciting experimentation that imagines possible future directions the band could take. Like catching up with an old friend, The Hum Goes On Forever is a touching document that affirms my decade-plus-long fandom and makes me grateful to have grown up alongside this band. And who knows, in five or six years, I’ll probably relate to this album on an even deeper level. I cannot wait.