Jail Socks – Coming Down | Album Review

It’s Not Forever, the debut EP by Jail Socks, was always meant to be a document of a past life. It’s 21 minutes of high school memories, smoke sessions, and drunken phone calls. This release saw a group of 18-year-olds looking back wistfully on both the low and high points of their teenage years just as they were at the onset of something new. The instrumentals were as jittery, fast-paced, and anxious as you would expect from someone entering this scary phase of life that we call adulthood. The experiences captured on this EP all lead to a bottoming-out in the epic six-minute closing track “Steering Wheel.” 

Peep yours truly in the turquoise flannel going buck-wild up front.

That song sets the scene with an angelic starry night guitar intro but soon pans down to Earth as we join lead singer Aidan Yoh who has just collapsed in their car. As the world falls apart around them, we hear our narrator at their lowest reflecting on all the events that have led to this point and all the irreversible hurt that has been caused along the way. The lies have caved in, and somehow Yoh is still self-aware enough to realize they don’t have the coping mechanisms to deal with the emotions that lay before them. Despite all this, they decide to face reality, clinging to the hope that “it’s not forever” before a violent instrumental erupts beneath them. From here, the lyrics sound as if we’re listening in on one half of a fight over the phone. Half phrases are shouted across a sparse instrumental. “You lied to me / I lied to you / So I don’t get your bullshit claims / What makes you so special / That makes me the only one to blame?” Now at a loss, the narrator circles back to one phrase; “What makes you so special?” Yoh belts the question repeatedly as the instrumental rises in intensity until the entire thing simmers over. Then it all fades out. 

And now Jail Socks pick up where they left off with Coming Down. Taking a decidedly less-tappy approach to their music, the group’s debut LP swaps the overtly emo sounds of their early work for a genre they’re simply calling “rock and roll.” 

The contrast between the song that opens the first Jail Socks EP and the song that opens the first Jail Socks album is stark. While “Jake Halpin” begins with an electrifying jolt of midwest guitar tapping, “Caving In” kicks off with a series of swaying guitar chords followed by a propulsive drum fill. It immediately sounds different than anything else the band has ever recorded, and that’s either good or bad, depending on who you ask.

Previously, my love for Jail Socks was rooted in how over-the-top emo the songs were. I got into the band from this clip, which sounds sloppy as fuck now, but captured a sort of sweaty DIY basement je ne sais quoi that the group absolutely nailed. I saw that clip, and I wanted to be there. I wanted to be shouting and screaming along. I wanted to be in it. Three years down the line, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that Jail Socks sound tighter than that clip, but what is surprising is how far their tastes have developed past midwest emo emulation. 

In fact, over the last few years, watching the band members individually explore (and fall in love) with acts like Metallica, Third Eye Blind, and Jimmy Eat World has been an amazing thing to watch unfold. It’s like the heavy music to shoegaze pipeline for emo bands. You can’t stay stuck on Mike Kinsella forever, and Jail Socks is proof there can be something honest, unique, and just as artistic on the other side. Watching the band members get into music outside of the emo sphere has been a pivot, but it’s also an immensely relatable horizon-broadening phase that every music fan goes through at least a few times throughout their life. It’s no surprise then that this brand of hook-heavy alt-rock bleeds through on nearly every song found on Coming Down, but we’ll get to that in a little. 

Part of this sonic change is due to the maturation that comes naturally with time, but is also thanks to a more democratic songwriting process. While all previous Jail Socks material was penned by guitarist and singer Aidan Yoh, Coming Down saw bassist Jake Thomas and drummer Colman O’Brien joining in on the creative process from the inception of these songs. What’s more, the band’s LP also sees Thomas tagging in for vocals on quite a few tracks, effectively making Jail Socks a “dual lead vocalist” band. The group detailed these changes in a loving multi-thousand-word profile over at Queen City Nerve, which is, as far as I’m concerned, the new Jail Socks Bible.

Photo by Nick Lewis

These creative and lineup changes aside, it’s still the same old Jail Socks I fell in love with back in 2018, just with a coat of fresh paint… but it took me a few listens to realize that. Lead single “Peace of Mind” is a standout track that did a lot to assuage my fears of the changing sounds. Releasing this as the first song off the album was not just a smart move, but the only move, in my opinion. The band deploys just enough emo riffage that the song expertly segues fans from the old style to the new. Lyrically, “Peace of Mind” is a hard-charging ripper that takes aim at toxic, manipulative people. It’s written in a faceless way that anyone can project their imagined foe onto the track with minimal effort and that interactivity is a powerful appeal. Add onto it some spitfire verses, a catchy singalong chorus, and just a touch of emo noodling, and you have an absolutely flawless lead single. 

The second single, “Sick Weather,” sees Yoh formally handing vocal duties over to Thomas for their mainstage debut. Yet another well-chosen single, “Sick Weather” has it all; handclaps, a socks-and-sandal-clad guitar solo, a series of multi-tracked “ooooh’s” in the chorus, and even a hard-hitting scream that comes right at the betrayed emotional climax. This track also dials up the “rock” sound while subtly turning down the “emo” slider at the same time. “Sick Weather” serves to further immerse the listener in the world of “New Jail Socks,” introducing the toolbox of sounds that the band will be playing with throughout the album.

Given Coming Down’s minimalistic one-month rollout, I supposed any extra singles would have been overkill, but at times it genuinely feels like any song off this record could have served as a single. “Spinning” feels like a snappy gen-z take on “Semi-Charmed Life,” “Point Pleasant” is an aching love song with a killer chorus, and “Losing Everything” retains the melancholic ‘in my feels’ sentiment of the emo genre while playing with a fun loud-quiet dynamic. In another bit of excellent sequencing, “No Ground” kicks Side B off with a fast-paced rager where cool phrases like “Leave me here / endlessly alone” throw directly to some old-school Jail Socks prickly guitar tapping. Simply put, there were no bad options here.

And with the length of a full LP at their disposal, the band finally has enough time to explore the lighter side of their sound. “Pale Blue Light” channels a version of lush, early-career Owen before vaulting up to a cathartic Goo Goo Dolls refrain in what is easily the band’s most heartfelt song. And while “Pale Blue Light” may be the band’s softest song, “More Than This” might be their quietest. Featuring just Yoh and an acoustic guitar, the song has a late-night pop-punk porch show vibe where emotions are laid bare for all to glom onto. The rug pull of a transition from this song into “Peace of Mind” is a masterful bit of sequencing on the band’s part. 

Photo by Nick Lewis

Individual songs aside, the bridge between the opening track “Caving In” and the closing track “Coming Down” is easy to connect. “Caving In” captures substance abuse and passivity as coping mechanisms. Midway through the song, as numbness becomes Yoh’s only escape, they admit over an instrumental break, “I think I’m finally caving in / Now I don’t even know who I am.” 

This disassociative sentiment rears its head once more on “Coming Down,” where Yoh sings, “Every time I see you around / It takes me back to a place / Where I didn’t know myself.” They forge ahead, touching on other subjects like uncertainty, old news, and the desire to go back in time. In one of the album’s most compelling sections, the instrumental builds as Yoh croons the album’s namesake, eventually pairing it down to almost nothing.

Can you feel it coming down?
Can you feel it?
Can you?

As the guitar, bass, and drums all rise, the band suddenly breaks into a soaring redemptive instrumental, setting the scene for Yoh to deliver the album’s final lines. 

​​And you cannot save what doesn’t exist
So you can’t move on with confidence

There it is. That’s what this record is all about, tied up in a nice little bow within the album’s final two minutes. In my estimation, these last two lines are endlessly interpretable; you can take them in within the context of this one song, the album-length journey that preceded them, or simply use these lyrics as a canvas on which to project your own experiences. 

Given the band’s previous focus on nostalgia and aging, I read this as a send-off to youth, past relationships, and old selves. It’s also a recognition that those feelings, events, and people may never come back. You can fight kicking and screaming, but you’ll never be able to retain those memories forever. Not only that, they may have never even existed in the first place. 

With Coming Down, Jail Socks find themselves on the other side of youth, looking back with reverence but also realism. It’s the kind of thing that you can only accurately write about with enough distance and perspective. It’s hard to tell when you’re in it, but years removed from all those events, you can see that phase of your life for what it really was. Jail Socks have come down from their youth, and they’re finally ready to move on to something better… or at least something different. This growth is signaled not only by the band’s change in sound, but also by nearly every lyric sprinkled throughout the album. The concept of change is woven throughout Jail Socks’ entire discography; it’s just taking on a different tone here than previous work. Most importantly, it’s a shift in tone that reflects this band’s truth and accurately captures their development over the past three years. The late-night smokes and overwrought feelings of their previous work have all led to this moment, and by the sound of it, Jail Socks are ready to seize it.

Ranking Every Level in Guitar Hero II Based on How Clean I Think Their Bathrooms Would Be

It’s been a while since I’ve published a long-form shitpost listicle, so here ya go. This one is exactly what it sounds like; every venue from the 2006 video game Guitar Hero II rated by how clean I think their bathrooms would be. For the full effect, listen along to the soundtrack while reading to envision it all properly.

Nilbog High School - Midwest, USA

Allegedly based on the Hartland Performing Arts Center in Howell, MI, if Nilbog is anything like Bled Fest, then the bathrooms are plentiful and relatively well-kept. Possibly one or two clogs throughout the grounds and most likely a handful that have run out of paper towels, but the sheer number of bathrooms make up for the few that have fallen into disrepair. 7/10.

The Rat Cellar Pub - Boston, MA

Absolute shithole. You know the beers cost like $2 here, and the bathroom reeks of PBR and piss on a good day. I’d bet $100 that the stalls here don’t have doors, so I hope you’re not shit shy. They probably have more stickers on the bathroom walls than passing health inspector grades. 2/10.

The Blackout Bar - Providence, RI

The Blackout Bar feels like a pretty standard midsized bar venue. They’re committed to a color scheme, which I always appreciate. The bathrooms are probably serviceable, if not a little coke-dusted.  The ground is slightly damp, but if you don’t think too hard about it, you can almost convince yourself it’s because they just mopped in there. You can still hear the band pretty well while doing your business, so that’s always a bonus. 6/10.

The RedOctane Club - Brooklyn, NY

An imagined theater named after a video game developer? You just know they have Doritos available as concessions. Name aside, I can almost guarantee an excellent bathroom experience. They definitely have nice, wide stalls, fresh urinal cakes, and hand-sensors on the sinks. The only downside is that it’s probably a bit of a hike from the stage to get to the restrooms at the back of the venue. 8/10.

The Rock City Theater -  Detroit, MI

Seemingly modeled after the Fox Theatre in downtown Detroit, I know exactly what the bathrooms in The Rock City Theater look like. There’s a checker tile pattern on the floor, a bathroom attendant hocking mints, and plumbing that’s older than most of the acts that play there. Outside of the spacious bathroom design, the number of stalls means that there is almost always a line snaking out the arched doorway, and for that, I must deduct several points. 5/10.

The Vans Warped Tour - Austin, TX

Even if you’ve never been to Warped Tour, you’ve probably attended an outdoor festival, so you know what to expect. The bathrooms are just a series of four dozen portapotties tucked away somewhere on the festival grounds. The only way to clean yourself is either with a squirt of hand sanitizer or one of those weird outdoor pump-style sinks. This setup is fine as long as you use the bathroom within the first few hours of doors, but they fill up with human waste so fast that you must prepare for the worst and use them only out of desperation at a certain point. Plus, this is in Texas? Hot southern weather and festival portapotties are a combination straight out of hell. 1/10.

Harmonix Arena - Oakland, CA

Based on its location in Oakland, it’s safe to assume that the Harmonix Area was crafted in the image of the Oracle Arena. These places are quite literally designed for hordes of people swilling $13 beers and pissing en-masse. They have enough urinals for an army, and I respect that. The restrooms often have basic designs and are dotted throughout the area, so you’re never too far from relief if needed. Plus, most of the bathrooms deposit you straight back to the vendor areas, so you can empty your bladder and refill your beer in one hyper-efficient trip. Definitely a solid setup. 9/10.

Stonehenge - England

Following the grand tradition of ornate and increasingly mystical final levels, Guitar Hero II ends in Stonehenge. While I’d like to assume this would be a standard outdoor show portapotty setup, Stonehenge is technically a prehistoric monument. I could see them now allowing the go-to festival setup in order to preserve the sanctity of the grounds. So, worst case, this is kind of like a hiking trail “just hold it” situation, or people are just goin’ for it in nature. Freeing as this can be, in almost any case, it means that the bathroom setup is lacking. I guess it would kinda be worth it to see a UFO synch its lights up to a performance of “Free Bird,” but that’s a long way to go for all the holding in you’d have to do. 4/10.

The Best of August 2021

Groovy licks, spacious shoegaze, and vivacious bars make up the best releases of August.

Mud Whale - Everything In Moderation

Self-released

One indicator of a great band is how fast they can turn you into a fan, especially if you go into their record blind. I queued up Everything In Moderation on release day, not knowing what to expect. Once the opening track “Karmageddon” kicked in, I was sold within seconds. As the song’s tappy emo intro led to a Touché Amore-caliber scream, I knew I was in for a wild ride. The record has flavors of post-hardcore on “Haze Jude,” a Title Fight bent on “Scapegoat,” and even a jazzy little love song in “French Roast.” Whether through nifty emo noodling or barrel-chested bellows, Mud Whale’s debut is a beautifully polished and inventive record that’s packed with an impressive variety of sounds. 

Kississippi - Mood Ring

Triple Crown Records

Heartbreak is hard. That observation on its own isn’t compelling, but on Mood Ring, Zoe Reynolds manages to make it feel one-of-a-kind. Over the course of ten shimmering synthpop tracks, the record captures the life of a relationship from initial spark to inevitable heartbreak. There’s soaring jubilation and excitement on songs like “Around Your Room” and “We’re So In Tune,” but things begin to decay in real-time as you listen. By the time the closing one-two punch of “Big Dipper” and “Hellbeing” rolls around, the feeling of loss hangs heavy in the air. There’s catharsis to be had here in the form of big, singalong choruses that stick to your brain, much like the bubblegum depicted on the album’s cover. Whether filtered through a 1989-style pop music filter or celestial metaphors, Kissy’s emotions remain a powerful driving force throughout Mood Ring. Through this relatability, Reynolds provides the listener with a strong figure to aspire to, all but saying, “if I made it through this, then you can too.”

Ty Segall - Harmonizer

Drag City, Inc.

Being a prolific artist, while admirable, is not always enough on its own. Much like fellow psych-rockers King Gizz, Ty Segall is a textbook prolific artist; he releases solo albums, collaborations, and demos at a consistent clip that can sometimes feel more like an avalanche. I like Segall quite a bit, but I’ll admit I am not die-hard enough to sit with each of these releases long enough to do them justice. And they’re not all for me. Segall’s newest LP, Harmonizer, is definitively made for me. This record takes the chunky, funky, fuzzed-out riffs of Melted and lays Segall’s signature cocky, strut-worthy T. Rex-indebted vocals over-top for a groovy (and punctual) collection of tracks that will make you feel like a Robert Crumb cartoon. 

Snow Ellet - suburban indie rock star: re-release

Wax Bodega

When Snow Ellet dropped suburban indie rock star back in March, I never got a chance to write about it in a monthly roundup because, well, I slept on it until April. But now, with its re-release on Wax Bodega, I finally get an excuse to write about one of my favorite EPs of the year. In the time since suburban indie rock star’s initial release, the project has received Pitchfork reviews, Stereogum coverage, and even lined up a tour with pop-punk stalwarts Knuckle Puck, and it only takes one song to see why. Under the moniker Snow Ellet, Eric Reyes effortlessly delivers sunny Oso Oso vocals over slick riffs, all with the 90s alt-rock worship of Equipment’s All You Admire. This results in a distinct confluence of styles that Reyes self-describes as “pop-punk for the indie kids, indie rock for the pop-punk kids.” With a cover that screams ‘cassette by a turn-of-the-millennium indie band from the Pacific Northwest,’ it’s no wonder why this unique combination of sounds feels so tailor-made for me. Plus, now with two new tracks added onto the original EP, there’s never been a better time to jump on the Snow Ellet train. 

Indigo De Souza - Any Shape You Take

Saddle Creek Records

How are you doing? Like, how are you really doing? That’s the subtext that I read when listening to Indigo De Souza’s stunning sophomore album. At a certain point, Any Shape You Take feels less like a collection of songs and more like checking in on an old friend. The sentiments are honest, the topics are morbid, and the delivery is modest as if honed from years of familiarity. These lyrics are often placed over a controlled indie rock jangle but occasionally stretch to the outer reaches of the universe. For example, “Real Pain” begins at a subdued even keel but gradually erupts into a chaotic burst of noise and screams that track perfectly with the emotion of the song. Songs address complex and hard-to-pin-down subjects like breakups, aging, and finding comfort in closeness. All of this is tied up with a neat little bow on “Kill Me,” which is easily one of the best songs of the year. Any Shape You Take is a stunner of an album that helps me better understand the world. 

Farseek - Standstill

Self-released

Much like Oso Oso, Farseek feels like a project with a singular focus that can only be the product of an individual mind. Performed, written, and engineered by Cameron Harrison with friend Corey Jacobsen filling in on drums, the lineup and arrangement are almost identical to Jade Lilitri. Not only is that impressive, but it also takes a level of skill and vision that not many musicians have. It feels like every aspect of each song has been carefully considered. Every lyric, guitar lick, and drumbeat has been intentionally placed, resulting in five emo tracks that beautifully hang together and feel like a holistic experience. Standstill is tentpoled by “Crying” and “New Short Haircut,” both of which are energetic, dynamic emo songs that hang on beautiful details of fleeting moments. Clocking in at a lightweight 16 minutes, this is an unassuming emo release that will sink its hooks in and beguile you over time.

Wednesday - Twin Plagues

Ordinal Records

Wanna know how to suck me into an album instantly? Start with a lumbering, fuzzed-out riff. This approach is precisely what Wednesday deploy on Twin Plagues. After roughly a minute of swaying shoegaze, the opening title track bottoms out into an all-too-relatable bedroom indie rock verse. Soon enough, momentum takes hold once again, and the group swings back into the borderline-stoner rock riffage, combining these two elements in a whirlwind of raw feelings. This is the dynamic that’s constantly at play throughout Wednesday’s sophomore album, and it is nothing short of entrancing. The marriage of moody instrumental tone with the occasional country-flavored jangle and hyper-personal lyrics delivered in a disaffected style is an absolute revelation. 

A Great Big Pile of Leaves - Pono

Topshelf Records

Confession time: I’ve never listened to A Great Big Pile of Leaves before this year. They were one of those emo revival acts that just managed to pass me by, so I sadly couldn’t join in on the hype for Pono when it was announced but two short months ago. Now that it’s here, I’m simultaneously overjoyed and kicking myself for sleeping on this band for so long. I also felt the need to preface this write-up with my lack of AGBPOL history because everything I wanted to compare this album to came in their wake. It’s one of those instances where you don’t realize the breadth of a band’s influence until you discover them. Pono is a beautifully sunny emo-light record where groovy Turnover instrumentals merge with lackadaisical Seahaven singing and the occasional arid Balance and Composure guitar tone for a cosmic gumbo of dancy emo tunage. Much like Frank Ocean’s Blonde, Pono feels like it was released at the perfect time, effortlessly catching the post-summer glow of late August.

Big Red Machine - How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?

Jagjaguwar / 37D03D

I’m a Bon Iver guy from way back. I stumbled across For Emma, Forever Ago as it came out, and for a 15-year-old whose default mode was “pining,” that record spoke to me unlike anything I’d ever heard. Over time, I grew with Bon Iver, and I’d like to think that the project grew with me in turn. While nothing overtly revelatory, the first Big Red Machine album felt like a one-of-a-kind project when it dropped. That release saw Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver) and Aaron Dessner (of The National) meeting at an intersection of their respective careers and feeding off each other creatively. The “concept” of the album is explained pretty succinctly in the opening paragraph of the Pitchfork review, but musically, the result was an experimental, hypnotic, bleary edible trip of an album that allowed both artists to indulge in some of their less overt tendencies. 

It was clear from the first single (and became more evident each of the four subsequent singles) the second album from Big Red Machine was not going to be that inward. Instead, the sophomore effort from this indie-folk brain trust involved turning the project into a sort of Avengers of the music industry. While a far cry from the isolated-but-collaborative nature of their first release, How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last? is a little muddled but still fun in a different way. It feels less like ‘two dudes hanging out making loopy shit in the woods’ and more like “Vernon, Dessner, and Friends,” which is still viable. Does it reach the artistic highs of Bon Iver or Sleep Well Beast? Nope. Will that stop me from keeping it on repeat all season? Not a chance. 

see through person - sun

Acrobat Unstable Records

Let me spit some phrases at you. Jail Socks. Dance Gavin Dance. Dogleg. Fatty basslines. Extra-chunky riffs. Thrashy drums. Killer screams. If this combination of sounds seems too good to be true, all you need to do is click play on sun to see the light. The three-track EP from the Florida emo act is an exercise in explosive instrumentation, soaring vocal melodies, and bombastic emotions. It may only be 7 minutes long, but when taken in alongside last year’s chariot, it’s easy to see the bigger picture. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that the vinyl collection of these EPs will achieve legendary status in a matter of years, if not months. 

Telethon - Swim Out Past The Breakers

Take This To Heart Records

Come for the features, stay for the rippers. That’s the motto on Swim Out Past The Breakers, the excellent sixth LP from Milwaukee-based indie rockers Telethon. Even a cursory glance at the album’s Spotify page reveals features from labelmates Future Teens, upcoming popstar Jhariah, and even handsomeman Chris Farren. This leads to a stacked DJ Khaled-esque lineup, the difference here being that Telethon are genuinely talented artists in their own right who are also pursuing a larger vision. On the opening track, “Shit (Jansport),” the band offers a crash course introduction to their Hard Pop style as they vault from over-the-top Glass Beach zaniness to a big top circus riff before launching into a crowd-churning breakdown. On paper, that’s a chaotic mishmash of incongruent sounds, but somehow the band manages to make it all click. Just to give a quick machinegun blast of the sounds and topics contained within this album, there’s jangly alt-country, AC/DC guitar licks, email-inflicted strife, Xenomorph encounters, Blink-182 interpolations, and an ‘80s-style TV interstitial. 

In one seventy-second stretch within my favorite song on the record, the band name-drops Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell, chiptunes act (T-T)b, My Morning Jacket’s hoedowns, and skatepunk icons PEARS as influences. And that’s just the instrumental which sits underneath a blistering punk verse courtesy of Intolerable Swill. In true emo fashion, about half of the songs on the album are punctuated by pop-culture samples that range from Tracey Ullman-era Simpsons to the Robin Williams classic Parenthood. Put simply, Breakers feels like a bunch of music nerds making songs for other music nerds, and I mean that in the best way possible. The album is a kaleidoscopic transfusion of pop culture references, out-of-this-world instrumentation, and impressive vocal performances. Honestly, what are you doing still reading this? Go listen right now.

Pink Navel - EPIC

Ruby Yacht

One of my favorite songs on EPIC opens with a Boxxy sample, then goes on to name-drop Dunkey and Scott the Woz before turning the titular “Ze Frank” into a tweet-worthy boast. If you understood any portion of that sentence, then it’s likely that this mixtape is made for you. On Pink Navel’s eighth album, rapper Devin Bailey infuses hard-hitting beats with obscure pop culture samples and hyper online lyrics, resulting in a project that feels wholly unique and extraordinarily personal. 

The opening to “GRATEFUL BARD” comes across as a sort of manifesto for the project as Bailey raps, “I don’t like that quiet serious musician attitude / If you are a grateful bard then you should change the magnitude / Of how you magnify or flatterize all your disaster tunes / To get a group of kids to feel the same brand of the sad as you / What, uh, is that too much for an opening bar?” Not only do these lines deliver a clear modus operandi, but they’re also punctuated by a wink that hits you on multiple levels at once. 

The penultimate track, “AN INVOCATION FOR BEGINNINGS,” turns the record into an inspirational affirmation both for the listener and Bailey as they shift into a preacher’s cadence while reciting Ze Frank’s piece of the same name. This leads closing track “R U BASHFUL?” to feel more like a victory lap, a self-exultation that closes out 30 minutes of explosive creativity. Bailey says EPIC “encapsulates a release of frustrated energy at the world and at the web, in response is unfiltered positivity and joy, with a light shining so bright, the smug can only look away, or embrace it's wide, warm arms” and embrace the light we shall. Quick Hits

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I am officially abandoning this section of one-sentence reviews because they’re just too much work to keep interesting. However, if you’d like to see my favorite song off every release I listened to this month, here’s a Spotify playlist. 

If you’re looking for even more tunes from August aside from the albums listed above, we also published standalone reviews for the new Catbite, Pet Symmetry, and Killers albums. 

Johnny Football Hero – Complacency | EP Review

If you’d allow me to indulge in some time travel for a moment, I’d like to take you back to 2010. We were two years into the Obama administration, and the phrase “Tik Tok” evoked Ke$ha rather than a social media platform. I was sixteen, a senior in high school, and just starting my first job. Every day I consumed music with a voracious hunger, but it always came back to one band for me… Dance Gavin Dance.

Their music may have been a little cringy, over-the-top, and occasionally too-noodly, but their first three albums set my teenage brain on fire with endorphins. It was everything I loved about groups like Underoath and Chiodos cranked up to 11 with a Ween-esque commitment to a unique brand of Gonzo-hardcore. They were going to scream, “I am a million fucking bucks / I am a thousand fucking fucks,” and they were going to say it with their whole chest. They meant that shit. 

In fact, I loved Dance Gavin Dance so much that I’d spend hours going on deep, early-aughts internet dives in search of anything that sounded remotely like them. You pick a number, and I can name a band that only a handful of people would even remember in 2021. We’re Not Friends Anymore? You got it. Jovian? You betcha. Artifex Pereo? I was there. It’s funny to look back at this crop of bands with any sort of reverence in 2021, if only because the bands hardly have any reverence themselves. I’m talking about those groups who somehow still manage to net 1,000 monthly listeners on Spotify despite the fact that they only have cover art as their profile picture… That is if they’re even on streaming services at all. I’m talking about the Rosaline’s and the Arms Like Yours of the world. These are groups that were taking a swing at fame because, honestly, there was a good chance they could at least land a record deal by just looking the part. These are the bands that time has forgotten, but don’t get me wrong; they still mean something to me even a decade removed from being the center of my musical world. 

I even went back to older acts like Circa Survive, The Fall of Troy, and Glassjaw in my never-ending search for screamo. These bands were arguably doing more “important” work in post-hardcore the same way that Deftones makes “important” nu-metal in comparison to, say, Limp Bizkit. But at the time, I needed that goofiness, and nothing hit quite like Dance Gavin Dance. Well, in my decade-plus journey of searching for the next DGD, I’m proud to say I’ve finally found it in Johnny Football Hero.

First off, their band name could have fit in perfectly alongside any act off Tragic Hero Records or InVogue back in 2010. These guys could have easily hopped on a tour opening for Akissforjersey and Lower Definition, and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. Not only that, I probably would have bought a ticket.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but when I listen to Complacency, I am transported straight back to 2010. I can practically see myself one decade ago, swigging on a Monster Energy Drink in between rounds of Halo: Reach. I feel like this is an EP I would have ripped off of Mediafire or some obscure Bandcamp page while chasing the dragon of post-hardcore. 

The release begins with a static-filtered guitar that eventually opens up to a propulsive post-hardcore riff. What really seals the deal is when guitarist/vocalist James McGill saunters into frame and lets out their first soulful bellow about ten seconds into the song. The vocalizations careen over the track, perched nicely atop a fuzzy chord progression and crashing cymbals. Near the end of the first verse, the music drops out into some emo tapping as the band articulates the struggle that accompanies the daunting combination of numbness and neurodivergency. 

Emotions hit a peak midway through the song as McGill reaches their upper register while stretching the word “deraillll’ into a four-second affair. Then things bottom out completely when the band hits the riff one last time before dropping out into a slow-paced post-rock gallop. As this subtle instrumental twinkles, they leave enough space for a Bojack Horseman clip to steal the spotlight. In this clip, Bojack’s half-sister Hollyhock (played by Aparna Nancherla) talks about her struggle with her inner monologue. She says, “But sometimes I have this tiny voice in the back of my head that goes like, ‘Hey, everyone hates you, and they’re not wrong to feel that way.’” to which Bojack (Will Arnett) flatly replies, “I know what you mean.” Hollyhock then elaborates in a worried tone, “That voice... the one that tells you you're worthless and stupid and ugly? It goes away, right? It's just like, a dumb teenage girl thing, but then it goes away?” After pausing for a beat, Bojack simply replies, “Yeah.” Then the instrumental kicks back in.

Man.

I know at a certain point, using external material like this in music can feel like cheating, but it’s hard to think of the last time I heard a sample utilized this well. As the instrumental builds back up, everything abruptly cuts out, and all we can hear is the shaking of a single tambourine. Suddenly the track explodes back to life over some Donkey Kong-style hand-drumming that’s borderline Salsa-esque. Then the band hits us with the chorus one last time. And this was only the first song on a 26 minute EP. 

From here, the band makes the most of cathartic group chants and a classic rock guitar solo on “41.” They deploy a searing slow-burn “Complacency, Pt. 1,” a razor-sharp shout-along chorus on “Sister Hellen,” and even some mathy midwest guitar tapping on “Aurora.” In the context of the modern “DIY emo scene,” Aurora sounds exactly like what certain bands are trying to achieve; earnest lyrics and hyper-technical instrumentation that all lead up to a stunning shoegaze riff. This is what groups like Clearbody and Dad Bod have been circling around; universally relatable emotions surrounded on either side by a sludgy tone that perfectly captures the mood without using any words. 

While Complacency opens beautifully and the middle fleshes out an excellent range of sounds, what pushes this EP over the edge for me comes in the form of its six-minute closer “Complacency, Pt. 2.” The song opens up quietly much like its preceding counterpart; a single delicately plucked reverb-laden guitar accompanies McGill’s repetition that things are “much clearer.” Then we hear a guitar strum that is caked in so much static it’s almost unrecognizable as an instrument. After a short introduction, McGill settles into their default yelp alongside a steady kick drum which slowly increases in intensity as the seconds tick by. A minute and a half in, things erupt into a barrage of drum fills and the band rolls into their final charge. One verse and 30 seconds later, things reach a boil as Mcgill hits a soaring Kurt Travis vocalization. At the same time, drummer Misha Datskovsky screams a borderline-rap verse that sits somewhere between Jon Mess’ contributions on “Heat Seeking Ghost of Sex” and “Swan Soup.”

These dueling vocalizations last a little over 20-seconds, but they are better than anything Dance Gavin Dance has done over the last five years. As someone who’s still a diehard Dance Gavin Dance fan, that simultaneously pains me to say but is also some of the highest praise I can give Johnny Football Hero. 

This vocal duel ends in a guitar solo (because, of course) and throws to another group chant that offers a cathartic ray of optimism delivered in an instantly catchy cadence. 

I'm not okay but I'm just fine
I think I'll get there with some time
If I'm complacent how have I moved on through
Cause I'd rather die than put up with your abuse

At the tail end of this chant, you hear the sounds of cheers, laughter, and in-studio tambourine shaking. It’s a brief moment of celebration in an otherwise confessional and emotionally draining release. The EP could have ended there, and I would have been satisfied, but instead, we hear one more verse before things quiet to a hush. Finally, with one minute and 22 seconds left, a single snare hit calls things to order as the group re-forms into one last seismic shoegaze riff for a final push. 

As the EP ends, I’m transported back to the modern-day. I’m no longer in high school, my iPhone 4 transforms into an iPhone 12 Mini, and I am once again an adult with responsibilities. It’s a brutal comedown, but worth it for the half-hour portal back to the past. 

Not only is Complacency a great EP from a young, upcoming band, but it’s also a powerful bout of nostalgia that allows me to revisit my past self. It’s evidence that maybe not everything I listened to in high school was a total waste of time; maybe some of it has more influence than I realize. Maybe it’s proof that these ideas, sounds, and approaches to music transcend time or scene. Perhaps it even speaks to some more profound truth that iterates on unshakable feelings we all experience as humans. Maybe it just shreds. 

Ultimately, Johnny Football Hero is making something more earnest than Dance Gavin Dance. Complacency covers more vital topics and deeper conversations than DGD ever did, but maybe that better reflects where we are as a society in 2021. I guess that’s for the next generation of fans to look back on and decide. Regardless of this EP’s legacy or place in the soulful post-hardcore emo music spectrum, Johnny Football Hero has crafted something equal parts innovative and nostalgic. This release may only be nostalgic for a certain type of guy in his late-20s, but I am here to confirm they’ve landed with at least one member of this audience. The band’s lyrics combined with musical moments that take me back a decade in time result in a one-of-a-kind listening experience unlike any other this year or in 2010.

Liance – This Painting Doesn’t Dry | Album Review

How do you define a life? How will I be remembered? Was I a good person? Many people wait until they’re old or facing their own mortality to grapple with these sorts of existential questions. These are the types of cosmic worries that drive people to pop out kids, write autobiographies, or donate massive amounts of money to have their name emblazoned on the wing of some building—all in the name of ensuring a legacy. Life is hard enough to navigate on its own, but trying to think of life in your absence is even harder to conceive. 

But, in a way, life is just the sum of its parts. It’s not all courageous decisions or life-changing adventures; there are millions of little microscopic moments that are impossible to articulate. Moments of laughter shared between friends. Days of sadness and consolation. Hours of nervousness and worry. Outbursts of pain and violence. Those moments may be less glamorous, but they are what make up a majority of our lives. They may not all be beautiful or noteworthy, but they are honest, and they are plentiful. This Painting Doesn’t Dry, the sophomore album from Liance, is a 44-minute document of these types of moments, both big and small, that make up a life. 

The entity known as Liance can be described in many different ways. The band’s Spotify page self-describes Liance as the “narrative songwriting project of Hong-Kong-Michigan-Brighton transplant James Li.” Meanwhile, I saw a fan online describe Li’s approach to music as “diaristic indie folk-rock electronic chamber pop.” While grounded in physical spaces and the arbitrary boundaries of musical genres, these examples alone prove just how eclectic a Liance release can be. For as long as this project has existed, Li has refused to conform to any single category or sound. Li only knows how to make music that’s true to his experience, and that leads to a collection of sounds, ideas, and thoughts that feel as multi-faceted as any one individual is. Perhaps more than any other record I’ve heard this year, This Painting Doesn’t Dry feels like a collection of stories that flesh out an existence, personality, and viewpoint all at once. 

Opening track “Ellie Takes a Bath” perfectly sets the tone for the album, welcoming the listener into the release with a mesmerizing noise loop that buoys throughout the track. Soon joined by a stuttering drumline and eventually Li himself, the song fleshes out a picture of two people sticking together through sickness and finding connection in shared interests and experiences. The song references, amongst other things, The Glow, Pt. 2 and Ezra Pound, just so the listener knows what they’re getting into upfront.

The following track, “Too Beautiful To Destroy,” acts as a mood-based level-set for the record, letting the listener in on a key inciting incident that frames the remainder of the LP. The song begins with a lush piano introduction which is quickly subsumed by a Flume-esque electronic warble that commands immediate attention. In between stark personal verses, the song’s chorus repeats, “It all adds up / Even small things add up in time / It all adds up” until the phrase saturates every fold of your brain. This all leads to a piano-tracked bridge where Li flashes forward in time, detailing the suicide of a close friend. This traumatic loss is directly contrasted with beautifully poetic moments shared amongst friends. 

These types of losses are the kind that hang with you forever. The pain of losing a friend is something that never entirely goes away; it only numbs over time. Sometimes all you can do to actively combat that sadness is to find comfort in a friend who knows what you’re going through. Though he doesn’t spell it out for the listener, the adjacency of these two opposing states creates an indispensable dichotomy. Placing such a striking tragedy next to moments of contentedness establishes how important each of these feelings are in their own right. Li’s choice to surround such a formative low with hopeful rays of human connection acts as a beautiful reminder of the good that can feel so imbalanced in the wake of loss. These moments are emotional anchors that keep us grounded. 

Outside of the personal experiences depicted in the lyrics, there is also a downright stunning range of textures and musical flavors to be found here. Mid-album “Catalonia” is a beautiful instrumental pit-stop that sits somewhere between the tropical math rock of Standards and the high-fantasy jazz guitar of Shalfi. Meanwhile, the instrumental on “Used To The Signs” sounds like pure National worship, which sits amongst other tracks that lean heavier into eclectic Sufjan Stevens and Destroyer-inspired instrumentation.  

Throughout Painting, songs shift focus from interpersonal to global, sometimes at a moment’s notice. Scenes of livestreamed funerals and tear-gas-laced protests punctuate flashes of beach trips and other “quiet victories” that make the heavy events feel a little less heavy. This is a consistent theme throughout the record, just as it is life. As things outside seem to spiral further and further out of our control, finding small, somber moments of connection is sometimes the only thing we have to hold onto. Whether political, environmental, or systemic, the world is comprised of these things can that feel too monumental to tackle on our own. Sometimes finding solace in the things we can control is all we have. Whether it’s a partner, friend, or parent, finding someone that you can lean on is necessary for survival in 2021.  Sometimes that takes the form of empathizing and wallowing in sadness together, but other times it’s escaping into a moment of happiness where all of those lumbering specters feel far away.

These feelings come to a head on “Untitled 92 at the NPG,” where Li calmly sings, “Blushing through post extinction events / Elated by our own holy insignificance.” These existential sentiments lead directly into “The Decameron,” where Li interpolates an English expression as he explains that he “[doesn’t] want to live through history no more.” As these thoughts spiral, the perspective shifts from grounded to celestial in one of the album’s most poetic verses. 

When I emerged I was covered by the earth
The parking deck was full of rotting flowers
There is a river - shimmer - threading illness back to the past
Seven planets and three stars

The record’s penultimate title track is a 90-second excursion that acts as a thesis statement for the entire piece. The song is so quiet, subtle, and fast that it almost passes by unnoticed. It’s not until further listens that the words really land…. But I’ll get to that in a minute. “This Painting Doesn’t Dry” is followed by “TAMSY,” which is undoubtedly Li’s magnum opus. This epic 12-minute closer is a multi-phase journey that winds from pedal steel ruminations to cosmic spoken-word poetry. The song evokes such indie-rock landmarks as Sufjan Stevens’ “Impossible Soul” and Car Seat Headrest’s “Beach Life-In-Death,” great company to be in. 

On this final song, Li offers up a few more slice-of-life portraits, eventually working up to a series of affirmations over a soaring instrumental that feels about as close to redemption as Li will ever allow himself. The album wraps up with a lyrical callback accompanied by the same noise loop that opens the record, leading to a sense of recursion or repetition. 

As one takes in this oceanic statement of personal truth and poetic observations, everything begins to come into focus. These events all have meaning, even when they have no meaning. As these stories bounce around the listener’s head, the album’s namesake suddenly clicks into place. 

Aside from being a beautifully poetic sentiment, the phrase “This Painting Doesn’t Dry” is a realization that life isn’t over until it’s over. As Li flashes from one small vignette to another, the message becomes clear; these moments will keep happening. Your life is never finished. It’s not until you pass on that your “painting” is finalized. Until then, you will keep adding on layers, colors, and shapes, building out a beautiful landscape of memories, events, and people. Things may get covered up, but they’re always there. Losses and feelings may become distorted with time, but their impact remains. Your life is your canvas, but it’s impossible to know how it will turn out until it’s all over, and even then, you don’t get to appreciate it fully. 

So once again, I ask, how do you define a life? Defining a life is hard, and defining your own is inherently impossible. It’s difficult enough for us to understand how we are perceived day-to-day, let alone how people will remember us once we’re gone. In fact, we have no say in how others will remember us–that’s hard, but it’s also a relief in some ways. In the meantime, all we can do is continue to forge ahead and live life the best way we know how. Existence can be built through these connections and experiences, but we have no say in our legacy. All we can do is hope that others catch enough glimpses of our true selves that once our painting is finalized, it feels authentic to who we were.