Review Summary: Catchy, exuberant emotional hardcore fronted by a female that harkens back to dusty, old Dischord releases. Oh, and they’re named after a Simpsons reference-- as if you needed any more convincing.
Who ever began associating emo music with solitude and loneliness, anyway? There’s something about the trade-off between guys and gals yelping and screaming their respective throats out that fits into Lumber Lung’s brand of emotive hardcore frighteningly well on their first official release, though they’re not the first band by a long-shot to put this technique to record. Love Like... Electrocution
, I Would Set Myself On Fire For You
, and 1905
, to name a few, all utilize the cross-gender method to a t, and Lumber Lung follows in this tradition. Energetic and lively but still deeply rooted in earlier emo elements, Lumber Lung are a welcome tour de force that’s sure to make waves in current screamo by revitalizing tired trends, and offering one of the year’s most dynamic, passionate records to date, regardless of silly subgenres.
More than anything, Lumber Lung is characterized by the beautiful, simultaneous juxtaposition between the female vocals and the roughness of the hardcore punk-esque background. The wall-of-sound effect is dense, akin to early Dischord bands like Dag Nasty or Engine Down; but more importantly, it rarely outshines the high-pitched frontwoman-- the curiously-clean gem of Lumber Lung’s grimy aesthetic. The band chimes in here and there for gang vocals as well, like on “Contrails,” most notably, adding yet another dimension to the free-flowing release. Passionate and oft-overwhelming, but never stretched to the point of exacerbation *cough*Kathy Coppola*cough*, the vocals are Lumber Lung’s
centerpiece. Still, they’re complemented by more-than-competent songwriting, which often erupts into a furious eruption by the resolution of the (rather short) tracks. Lumber Lung’s best display of this is offered on the chilling “Time Bandits,” with her gradually-building screams eventually erupting in a memorable refrain of ”People who don’t give a fuck,”
emphasis on the “fuc
k.” Despite highlights “Best To Keep Moving,” “Receiver,” and “Vomit A Little In Your,” the LP is fluid and forgiving, never offering a down-track and keeping a lively tempo in its short run-time.
Overflowing with zeal, Lumber Lung
is an uncontrolled tantrum of an album. Though tending to be a bit messy in sections, aspects like this only give it more personality, more excitement. Lumber Lung deploy the female vocals to create a vivacious exuberance rather than a sharp dissonance unlike some of their predecessors. The result is an album that harkens back to emotional hardcore legends while concomitantly marking their own territory in the scene, providing reason after reason to forget about those dinosaurs and listen to Lumber Lung instead with each subsequent moment of unadulterated, screaming dynamism.
is available for free download, here: http://lumberlungmusic.bandcamp.com/