Review Summary: Once you're just dust in the ditch, then your soul's finally saved.
If you were expecting a straightforward punk affair from
New Ruin, you might be taken aback by its first few moments. Opener “Performative Hours” kicks off with a heavy downtuned riff that wouldn’t sound out of place on an industrial metal record; however, this little motif is a perfect demonstration of the stylistic diversity The Flatliners are capable of. Originally a ska punk band, the Canadian rockers have expanded their sound with each release to show just what kind of range they really have – most notably, the way they pit anthemic choruses and catchy melodies against unrefined vocals and hardcore-influenced riffs. This study of contrasts can be seen as the thesis statement of
New Ruin, as it’s prevalent in most of the record; however, the real magic of the album lies in how many variations The Flatliners wring out of their formula. Take “Top Left Door” for example; the bitter lyrics and punchy riffs are met with infectious hooks and a deceptively cheery vibe, creating a weird emotional tug-of-war for the listener. Then you have “Oath”, which experiments with groovy midtempo riffs while remaining as energetic and forceful as the rest of the tunes on offer. The way the group effortlessly walk the tightrope between raw aggression and infectious melodies on
New Ruin is admirable, and it makes the record’s 37 minutes go by in a flash.
However, the music itself isn’t the only thing bringing the band’s vision to life. Frontman Chris Cresswell spoke on the meaning of one of the album’s standout tracks, “Heirloom”:
“It’s hate mail to the previous generation[...] All their brilliance and ingenuity has just left our generation and future generations in the dust and unable to afford the world we live in, with this enormous emotional and environmental toll. It’s so demoralizing.”
Soon enough, you realize that there’s another tug-of-war going on in
New Ruin… the conflict of bitterness vs. hope. Hell, “Heirloom” itself showcases this perfectly; angry vocals and righteous lyrics are tempered by a peppy, polished musical accompaniment. It’s not like the “happy music with dark lyrics” template is new by any means -
After Laughter by Paramore immediately comes to mind as a modern example - but the energy exhibited in the band’s approach evokes something that goes beyond simple observation. The anthemic nature of the music – along with the pure conviction of Cresswell’s voice – ensures that you, the listener, are just as involved and invested in what’s going on lyrically as they are. Closer “Under a Dying Sun”, for instance, speaks of complacency and the sad prospect of admitting defeat; however, the climax is so impassioned and explosive that you practically have no choice but to sing along. That’s the beauty of
New Ruin: it’s a bitter, realistic record, and it wants you to belt its injustices out at the top of your lungs. If that doesn’t make for an effective modern punk release, I don’t know what does.
