Review Summary: This is how it goes (to shit)
Before we get ahead of ourselves, a few points of order. First, as I hope will become self-evident: I
fucking love Billy Talent. Chapters I and II of their canon remain essential genre reference points, constituting some of the most frantic and atypically nuanced pop punk ever to have graced our collective ears, so much so that I feel remiss to besmirch them with a genre label quite so loaded and oft-loathed. Hell, even the
semi return to form of
Dead Silence and the unduly maligned conclusion to the trilogy that preceded it were both well-crafted, banger-laden records that I still find myself returning to years down the line. The point: Kowalewicz, D'Sa and co have built an
utterly brilliant band, and if you disagree then … well, fair enough, you do you. Second,
Crisis Of Faith doesn't
entirely deserve the ominous 2.3 above. The
kinda prog-y
almost metal-y "Forgiveness I + II" is easily the most ambitious and genuinely exciting track the Canadian 4-piece have released in a decade, old-school barnburner "Reckless Paradise" wouldn't have felt out of place on their best works and the soppy singalongs of "Beg to Differ" and "One Less Problem" swing the bleeding hearts on the band's sleeves around so violently and dramatically that they wind up endearing and lovable. Third, and most importantly, the remainder of the record
blows.
We're left with Weezer cameos that sound like Bowling For Soup knockoffs ("The End Of Me"),
shitty sappy ballads that sound like
shitty sappy ballads ("The Wolf") and markedly inferior versions of songs that the band have released half-a-dozen times before ("Judged" and "For You"). Indeed, aside from its occasional highlights,
Crisis of Faith feels haggard, tired and lost: branching in a handful of uninteresting, jarring directions with little apparent rhyme or reason. It exists because it exists, because there
could be another Billy Talent record, not because there needed to or because they had anything left to say; and yet, and herein lies my frustration, they
clearly do. A record built on the foundations of
Crisis of Faith's opening moments would have been something worth talking about
: a refreshing and novel spin on their tried and true formula, one to rekindle their fading flame following 2016's lacklustre
Afraid of Heights. Instead, the iconic chunky riffs and maniacal screeching that built the band's fandom are smothered beneath bland pastel hues and shinier, shittier refrains, buried prematurely as the record's potential is swiftly squandered.
Perhaps I've been unduly harsh. In the grand scheme of things,
Crisis of Faith isn't a
bad record and, to be honest, I suspect I'm expecting more than one should of a 20-year-old punk rock project. On the other hand, it's Billy
fucking Talent. Expectations are built on experience, and it's the band's historic highs make the lows on
Crisis of Faith all the more difficult to swallow. Oddly, zeletous numpty that I am, my faith remains unshaken (mostly). The lads have another comeback in them, I'm certain.
Hanging by a thread and with
nothing to lose, here's to hoping they
try honest[l]y one last time before they
cut the curtains and
surrender. After all,
this is how it goes.
