Review Summary: “I don't want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.”
"I don't know if my (lyrics) mean anything."
It's a shocking yet entirely unsurprising assertion by post-hardcore's resident philosopher Aaron Weiss stated first in his 2016 interview with Zero Platoon then stated yet again in mewithoutYou's A to B: Live released earlier this year. Anyone who has attentively listened to mewithoutYou has certainly picked up on Aaron's modest and often self-effacing nature, who again and again strives for the negation of himself as his spiritual summit. Aaron, in almost every dialogue he's given recently, expresses great doubt about the worthiness and meaningfulness of his craft and even the purpose of doing it at all. Band members in A to B: Live describe the process of writing a new record as beginning to write music and then beginning the process of resurrecting Aaron from death, unsure whether or not Aaron even has another record in him. In such a sense, Aaron almost fits in the mold of the old testament prophet. Unconfident and and unwilling, they still answer the call to be a voice in the wilderness. But Aaron's message has nothing to do with the outer world. It is only ever a deeper plunge into the depths of himself, the frailty of his nature, his relationship with the divine and the lack thereof.
In the vein of the modest, unworthy prophet, there could be no more appropriate beginning to mewithoutYou's monumental discography than A to B: Life, a record which the band would have every right to be embarrassed of, but of which they have no reason to be. Almost fittingly, the record is preceded by two EPs, "Blood Enough For Us All" and "I Never said I Was Brave", both efforts horrendously produced and even just as terribly written, so much so that after this sentence, the records will never be mentioned again. But, in A to B: Life the band caught hold of something solid, while simultaneously still having nothing figured out. Aaron Weiss has yet to find any grace or dignity in his vocal craft, one which will be come to known for its uniqueness and poetry, but which, for now, only consists of impassioned screams and out of breath murmurings. The band, yet to find an identity of its own, instead follows every melodic post-hardcore trope in the book.
But perhaps the most noticeable difference here is the simplicity of the release. A to B: Life is in every sense mewithoutYou's breakup record, where Aaron laments a recently failed relationship, uses that relationship as a metaphor of him being separated from God, enters into a narrative of him stalking his ex - and therefore trying to again find God in the same breath - and ends with him coming back to God and in doing so losing his earthly desire to rekindle the relationship with his ex. And while the lyrics/meditations found within this record are still of some real quality, more meaning and depth will be found within single lines in mewithoutYou's latter albums.
But, that's hardly the point here. In Rickie Mazotta's interview in A to B: Live he mentions that in practicing for the album tour only two weeks before its beginning, he couldn't make it four songs in without his arms cramping and entirely losing his breath. Aaron as well laments that for the entirety of the tour he has found himself losing his voice and even hurting his back after repeatedly performing the album. And surely enough in the performance, Rickie and Weiss, the two cornerstones of the band, appear utterly spent before the album is even a third over, but they for damn sure don't let up at all until the record is entirely performed.
In that sense, before the band's artistic craft was ever realized, the very essence of mewithoutYou is found in this record. There's a purity here that will never be so unveiled again. It's the purity of a band that gives their all at every single show, but is somehow even more impassioned in their record. It's the purity of a band who can't afford a crew because the entire budget is spent on bus repairs. And most of all, it's the purity of a band which just, frankly, kicks ass. There's a sense of flow, dynamism and unity in the band's performance on this record that would be unmatched by their peers over a decade later. From the menacing and explosive opening of Bullet to Binary to the soft but driving "Everything Was Beautiful...", which climaxes in droning, screaming climax, to the outdated yet still entirely refreshing wah-wah guitar solo that bursts into existence in "Be Still, Child" to Aaron's whispering of "Jesus have Mercy on Us" in the album's closer before the album literally ends in what sounds like the pummeling of instruments on a stage floor, every moment on this album still feels organic, driven along by a propulsion, always inert within the band, that makes no moment feel out of place.
The most revealing moment in the record, though, is the hidden acoustic rendition of "I Never Said I was Brave", which gently emerges after several minutes of silence at the end of the record. It still feels like the most zen moment in the band's entire discography, when what follows the dust kicked up by an album filled with angst and distortion is a song filled with a sense of peace, beauty and incredible melody. Aaron, who still wouldn't truly find his singing voice for another four years is nowhere to be found on the track, it instead is performed entirely by Daniel Pishock, who would only last one more album before leaving the band. The song is an appropriate foreshadowing though of what the band's greatness will eventually be defined of - the clash between the melody and beauty of this modest acoustic number and the sound and the fury that preceded it.
But, an even more appropriate conclusion is perhaps found in A to B: Live where Aaron struggles to perform an encore, giving what might be the worst performance of his band's coming opus "A Sweater Poorly Knit" in the band's history because his voice is entirely shot. That moment symbolizes many things. Aaron will come to be one of the most profound and dynamic writers and performers in all of music. The clarity of faith found in this album will come to be ever obscured, leading to deeper and deeper examinations and insights brought forth by Aaron's spiritual wanderings. The band as well will grow exponentially, building upon the foundation of this album to create paragons of experimentalism, songcraft, heaviness, and beauty.
But, A to B: Life is in many ways akin to Moses's encounter with God in the burning bush. The band is nothing compared to what they will be and everything they will come to accomplish past this point is far greater than what they accomplished here. But, in many ways, just as Aaron's voice is inevitably shot after performing A to B: Life, the band will never escape or surpass this record and will always, in some ways, be known for it. Aaron will always be the lovelorn subpar mystic lamenting the grave flaws within himself, and the band will always be behind him, finding their stride and never looking back - the energy and spirit in future records always branching off their first. In fitting Weiss fashion, no matter how many layers they add, this is where the band will begin, and almost unquestionably, this is where the band will end.
