Change is uncomfortable. And in music, that can be applied to the artist as well as the listener. An artist might seek out to create a completely new sound, or they may choose to try and replicate a previously acclaimed album, rarely being successful. But as listeners, weâre not always willing to grow and progress with the artist. When we connect with an album so deeply we tend to expect that same overwhelming and soul-cradling feeling over and over again. Music is meant to change. Artists are encouraged to grow, and so are listeners.
When bands like Joyce Manor push themselves in new directions, it coerces the listener to shift and adapt with them. For example, their 2011 self-titled album and 2012âs âOf All Things I Will Soon Grow Tiredâ illustrated the band shouldering through the anxiety and bitterness of their early 20s. In 2014, we were coldly re-positioned with âNever Hungover Againâ, which left a bit of sarcasm and condescension lingering in the air around us. Five years after their debut full-length and seven years after their first demo, weâre given a glimpse into a newer, clearer version of Joyce Manor as they saunter into the confidence of nearly 30.
Instead of moving swiftly through recording and production as they did with âNever Hungover Againâ, which was recorded in just ten days, the band found themselves with two months and a de facto fifth member, producer Rob Schnapf (Elliot Smith, Guided By Voices, Saves The Day). In a press release, Barry Johnson (guitar / vox) says of the process: âIt was the first time we really used the studio to our advantage. I felt like I could get a better grasp on what we could do. We always recorded like a punk band â go in and lay âem down! Just get good takes! And this time we tried a lot more.â
The variety that Johnson mentions is certainly not just for show. Songs like âAngel In The Snowâ and âDo You Really Want To Get Betterâ greet us with a stark difference from where the band left us with âNever Hungover Againâ in 2014. As if the heartbroken, bitter friend we once knew has moved past their fears of being alone and came to terms with their personal evolution. Or, what most people call, growing up. âI find that as I get older it’s easy to hold things from your youth close to your heart,â says Johnson. âRevisiting bands you were into ten years ago can seem exciting, but itâs creative suicide. It’s very important to find new things to be inspired by.â
Bouncing from track to track, itâs clear that early 2000s pop-punk has had a heavy hand in this albumâs story. At the center of the album, âLast You Heard Of Meâ and âMake Me Dumbâ are by far the simplest melodies. Though offering an intimate narrative lyrically, âLast You Heard Of Meâ jets us back to 2002 in Southern California with its sugary guitars and mellow drumming. But if youâre having a rough time accepting Joyce Manorâs new mid-tempo sound, the distortion-filled essence of âNever Hungover Againâ and their self-titled can be found on âEighteenâ, âReversing Machineâ and âThis Song Is A Messâ. Drenched in melancholy and uncertainly, âEighteenâ has one of the most intricate textural landscapes on the album.
While itâs easy to miss the animosity and corrosive nature of their previous releases, Joyce Manor have presented an illuminating case for when a band just needs to grow up and urges their listeners to do the same. Whether youâre a new listener or youâve been following the band since their demo release in 2009, youâll appreciate their genuine and fluid progression from teenage angst to well-adjusted, pensive adulthood.
JACLYN O’CONNELL