Review Summary: Crank up the volume, clear the furniture, and dance like crazy.
A term like ‘fun’ cannot really be quantified in any meaningful way. Much like music as a whole, definitions and experiences are heavily, if not entirely, based upon subjective reasoning. Individuals on one side may claim that a song considered ‘fun’ is characterized by a simple but addicting melody; not much innovation happens necessarily, and the track itself may be thoroughly unassuming at its roots, but it captivates the listener nevertheless by being amusing or playful in some manner. Proceed towards the other end of the spectrum and the word incorporates every single release that elicits a strong positive reaction in general, the context of the tune not having any apparent effect on the audience. The general idea here is that what one review classifies as purely entertaining in its scope is what another person may regard as a variety of different descriptions—upbeat, sweet, plain, or even boring. It’s relatively difficult to therefore integrate features such as this into musical vocabulary since so much intended meaning can be lost from one consumer to the next. However, when it comes to addressing Gods of Mount Olympus’ self-titled entrance into the creative market, it’s laborious to find an expression that’s more appropriate. Whether it can be agreed upon or not,
Gods of Mount Olympus is, quite honestly, fun.
Although the boys assembled in Gods of Mount Olympus aren’t shattering genre orthodoxies, they do separate themselves from a majority of peers with one included element: while jamming through their punk rock-styled songs, a piano is thrown into the mix, functioning as a core member of the band’s sonic production. Immediately during the driving part that kicks off “Blue Screen Light,” it’s evident that this is not merely a gimmick; the keys are constantly present throughout every song, acting less like a bonus and more like a bona fide addition to the group—removing it leaves a noticeable difference. The jazzy rhythm provided in single “Cops on Saint Andrews” powers the groove of the track, guiding the verses and punctuating the chorus. The same tune offers space for the piano to go off on its own, and it hammers out a solo near the middle of the runtime. In other instances, namely “Admission,” the piano’s clean, melodic tone sets the mood, dancing in and out of the guitars, and it once again is presented as the primary force inside the music’s heart. Clarification in this field is important to make; more often, collectives fall into the trap of embracing an ‘unconventional’ component to simulate inventiveness (ex. the handful of death metal bands running around with violins). Here, the atypical is organically engineered into typical.
With the piano supplying exceptional support, a robust foundation is constructed for the gang to let loose and race through the five entries on the EP like a breeze. Catchy guitar riffs cooperate with the keys performance, naturally complimenting each other, while pleasing vocal harmonies are layered on top, icing the figurative cake. Admittedly not possessing the greatest range or variety from a punk singer, they get the job done successfully, and the passion in the delivery is undeniable; the release feels all the more genuine because of it. “Curtains” epitomizes the marriage of these multiple factors the best: the piano progresses beneath dominant guitar strumming, the harsher quality and faster tempo leading to the record’s most aggressive-sounding number, concluding in a subtle-but-effective guitar solo. Aforementioned “Cops on Saint Andrews” will never fail to make feet tap throughout the memorable refrain, causing heads to bob in appreciation to the refined drumming performance as if the song made it an absolute requirement. The previous jab at ill-advised string instrumentals notwithstanding, Gods of Mount Olympus do employ a cello briefly on “Admission” and closer “Neverminder”—a mid-tempo rocker distinguished by its more somber temperament.
It’s been discussed momentarily, but one shouldn’t expect total originality; the record wears years of pop-oriented punk rock on its sleeve like a badge of honor, regardless of potential downfalls. Songs similar to “Blue Screen Light” have introduced countless other albums, and it feels much more scaled back when compared to peers, or even other entries on the EP in question. Outside of the piano, the guitars, drums and vocals aren’t really doing something unheard of. The manner in which it all comes together, however, is undeniably attractive to the ear. Gods of Mount Olympus capture that side of punk rock that just goes for it, rolling out song after song that brings down the house and never leaves one’s conscious. Consulting a metaphorical musical dictionary can perhaps lead to a somewhat-sufficient label that captures all the feelings encountered listening to this brief disc, but only one term seems to do the trick. Maybe
Gods of Mount Olympus is fun, and maybe it’s not. But it sure as hell can put a smile on your face. Maybe, all things considered, that’s what matters the most.
