Review Summary: Feeling the blues and downing whiskey; snorting cocaine at five thirty-three.
There’s much to be said about artists who wear their hearts on their sleeve.
Oversharing seems a common trait among those seeking to capture the attention of those they seek to captivate, pulling the many in with a solitary individual’s pain and past sufferings, and Landon Tewers of The Plot In You’s fame is no different. He’s proven, on multiple records, bold enough to unveil the multiple layers that have fallen upon him over the years, charging forward more often as a furious force of nature to reveal what lies beneath, and taking little respite before moving on to address what comes next. It could easily be questioned what good a solo effort would even do for Tewers’ already very successful career, seeing as The Plot In You
was initially founded as a side project for the very purpose of fulfilling the many personal whims of his musical playground, so
what does
Dynamite fulfil differently?
Here’s the kicker;
Dynamite couldn’t have been more erroneously titled if Tewers’ tried.
If at all proven by the likes of Tina Turner and Jamiroquai, ‘Dynamite’ is far too glamourous a name for an album these days, let alone describing the solo effort of a popular metalcore vocalist. It instead is more commonly utilised to convince an audience of the golden confetti wonder that lies within the record before you, rather than the horrific consequences usually associated with nitroglycerine infused detonations. To name another example, AC/DC’s 1970s hard rock hit ‘T.N.T.’ oozes pure rockstar sheen, and while, sure, Landon Tewers
is captivating enough to be considered a rockstar by nature, if examined by themes and tone alone,
Dynamite barely comes close to such an arrogantly romantic portrayal. Instead, the reflection Tewers presents of himself appears completely unhindered by the glossy, dreamy eyed nature of the album title; lyrically alone,
Dynamite wastes no time continuing Tewers’ track record of blunt honesty.
Everything is heavily fixated on the uncensored desires and attitudes of its narrator, much of these being explicitly violent or sexual confessions, and a cold honest admission of
“I know you want me to change, but I’m ***ed in the head.”
Lyrically, the further
Dynamite delves, the more obvious the cynicism of the album title presents itself; for example, ‘Need To Change’s sarcastic introductory jovial whistle immediately dissolves into a moody, acoustic blues track, with Tewers brooding over an unhealthy extent of unfulfilled desire;
”I can’t sleep, and there’s blood on the sheets.
Yeah she likes it rough, but I don’t think she likes all the things that I love.”
By an extreme contrast, Tewers’ then immediately follows up the morose introductory ‘Sick Obsession’ and ‘Need To Change’ with the most ironic track on the album, ‘Do What I Gotta Do’, a funk-infused, drunk on fame rant on Tewers’ sexual prowess and his nature as a “selfish mother***er.” If that wasn’t jarring enough, Tewers’ continues the album schizophrenically bouncing back and forth between the lyrical perspectives of a self-obsessed fool who
”don’t need a ***ing thing from you”, before abruptly shifting back into an acutely introspective individual, spending other tracks pondering the consequences of such leading a cavalier lifestyle, such as the ominous blues number ‘Savage’, introduced by Tewers as
”a little story, about myself” before seemingly spiralling out of control, lamenting
”I’m a demon. I’m a snake. Walking disaster, I’m a mistake.”
Musically, Tewers appears to approach things with just as much of an eclectic mindset, dabbling in various genres and giving the album an overall impression of a mixed bag of ideas. Some of these come to fantastic fruition, such as the alt-rock ‘The Stretching Girl’, easily one of the album’s most interesting tracks instrumentally; the song is huge, and highlights one of Tewers’ finest vocal performances on the album. ‘Living A Lie’ follows a similar vein, showcasing an anthemic rock arena chorus to great effect, while ‘I May Be Evil’ hits as one of the most melancholy tracks on the album, gently soothing guitar work is peppered throughout the track, and ‘I May Be Evil’ sees Tewers once again bearing a conflicted heart for all to see;
”I may be evil, I may be vile.
But you must be stupid, ‘cause I made you smile.”
While much of the record evidently relies heavily on Tewers’ confessions of his many mistakes and personality flaws, one of
Dynamite’s most spectacular, beautiful pieces comes in the form of its gentlest; ‘Cooped Up’, originally featured on the previous
Xmas EP, has been reworked slightly to gorgeous effect. The song sees Tewers focus on somebody else for a change, tenderly reaching out over a soft acoustic rock instrumental, and intending to rescue the individual from themselves, and not
”risk your colours fading”. The track bookends the album neatly with ‘Sick Obsession’, and a far more positive ending to what so aggressively started the affair is seen.
Perhaps after considering everything,
Dynamite is an appropriate name for the album after all. The explosive nature of the narrator’s mindset may warrant such a description, and the album certainly lacks a certain coherence in structure and tone, but for the most part it works in the album’s favour. It’s by no means a magnum opus, but the raw talent seen on the record and a few touches of brilliant serendipity result in some of Landon Tewers most captivating material to date. Tracks such as ‘Do What I Gotta Do’ and ‘I Don’t Need A Thing’ are more than likely to frustrate, but the majority of
Dynamite is solid work and deserves a certain level of recognition. Whether or not some of the record’s more blues induced material will make an appearance on The Plot In You’s forthcoming record remains to be seen, but it’s unlikely.
Dynamite fulfils this requirement just fine.
