Review Summary: There's nothing new under the Swan.
There’s a sea change in post-hardcore, and it ain’t in favor of the (debatably) golden (and certainly) olden days of Swancore. Throwback is the name of the game, with modern outfits returning to classical sounds as both a nostalgia trip and an entertaining synthesis of new and past elements. This rosy-sheened appeal is something Swancore never had and likely never will; it was always a relatively niche style whose heyday managed to land a choice handful of hits, and its strict adherence to the work of its progenitor meant precious room for innovation--which is to say nothing of the incestual nature many of the bands in this sub-sub-genre took on, trading and sharing members ad nausea like a Midwestern goodbye where
nobody ever leaves. On the heels of the bloated, cliched, and controversial
Jackpot Juicer, it’s impossible to view the category as anything more than creatively bankrupt. If the Swan himself cannot move an inch past staring lovingly into his own reflection, what more can be done? Should Dwelling’s latest be any indication, the solution is simple: scrub the Dance Gavin Dance name off a Dance Gavin Dance cover, find a Kurt Travis impersonator, and ta-da, it’s
Happiness at home!
Thus, another Swancore up-and-comer comes down the pipeline. As is the case for many groups of this ilk, the talent on display is obvious; math-tinged, funky leads take command, propelled forward by polished tones and liberal flashes of virtuosity designed to evoke a summery atmosphere. Fellow hallmarks appear in the form of bouncy bass riffs, jazzy drumming, Chon-like noodling, shifting time signatures amidst technical flourishes--check, check, check, and check. And when those contributions bring about a cohesive song, the thrills are worthwhile; “Gothic Girl” unfurls some delicious winding guitars that dazzle in the forefront, with smooth vocals parading about some cute tongue-in-cheek poetry, and “Gold Leaf” possesses a solid fun factor in its thumping rhythm. The trouble is that:
1) rarely does a cohesive song arrive.
2) it is 2023 and we’ve been here before.
There’s no shame in inspirations being used as a sturdy, time-tested foundation, but all too often does it seem that Swancore’s second wave settles for mimicking the antics of their birb ancestors. The movement’s core members all brought
something to the fray; A Lot Like Birds with their frenetic instrumentation and frenzied vocal trade-offs, Hail the Sun with their sharpened precision, and Dance Gavin Dance with their trademark funky, jazz-influenced guitar style.
Little Garden, in comparison, is the equivalent of paint-by-numbers, ranging from a singing performance uncannily similar to Kurt Travis--this is especially apparent when the vocals head towards a gritty, half-screamed higher register--and riffs that could be easily inserted into a DGD album and none would be the wiser. Tracks hit archetypal beats and go through the motions, paying no heed towards meaningful payoffs while banking solely on the base appeal of Swancore’s sugary sweet timbres. Other songwriting factors are not given the same amount of attention, leading to awkward transitions, bridges that stumble about without much purpose, and a general absence of variety that damages memorability.
Even when drawing too much from inspirations, enjoyment can still be had--Stolas managed to earn acclaim while not necessarily reinventing the wheel--but so much of Dwellings’ latest effort sounds unfortunately soulless. No heft whatsoever is a culprit, as any groovy portion is automatically robbed of substantial power by default. Consequently, the dynamic range of the disc is hampered; there’s no opportunity to shift from varying levels of intensity. The band maintains the same momentum, the same level of energy, and then unenthusiastically rolls into the next song. Despite the emphasis upon the traditional Swancore sound, very few of the refrains--the poppy bread-and-butter of the genre--leave a mark, be it due to an underwhelming vocal performance, a rise in aggression that’s about as formidable as a limp noodle, or a melody that sounds ripped from a “How to Swan” starter pack. The bones of a successful Swanny jam can be heard on “It’s All There,” but the heaviness is ejected, no climax occurs, no progression is embarked upon, and the frontman can’t rock a hook like pre-Macbook-Gate Jonny Craig. It’s a consistent struggle that causes tunes like “Happens All The Time” and “Hiding Your Numbers” to blend into indistinguishable mush, and it transforms the 5-minute “Redd” into an exercise in patience minus reward.
By the halfway point,
Little Garden is out of intrigue; opener “Devices” sets a standard that is never deviated from, save the gentler beginning and bouncy rhythm of “Gold Leaf,” although even that tune seems exhausted and gives up in its closing minute. Beyond is base appeal--appreciating the technical skill and the delightful tonality of the instrumental arrangements--what
Little Garden provides is what Swancore has already offered time and time again. It fills that niche for those looking for a fix, but it does nothing to dissuade doubts about the sub-sub-genre’s viability in 2023. The end result is a now-familiar tale: Dwellings spent too long looking to the past that they became it, and in a scene that’s in dire need of fresh perspectives, that’s less of a winning formula and more of a eulogy for a style on its way out. It’s clear that the collective have the pieces necessary to compile something engaging, but until they’re able to separate from their idols, only hints at a superior record can be detected.
