Review Summary: It's an unforgiving world.
“I’m so sick of… Fill in the blank,” Will Toledo remarks, his words resonating with a quality foreign to his previous twelve albums. The implication of this first sentiment creates an immediate irony, as it exists in contrast with the uncompromising nature of the entirety of
Teens of Denial. It’s plain to see from the start that Will is confident with his lyrics; his ease of vocal delivery seems characteristic of his nature now. “Fill in the Blank” at the beginning of the record also suggests a transparent accessibility, but this complacency is soon interrupted by the lingering guitar introduction of “Vincent,” the first of many sprawling tracks contained herein. Clocking in at nearly eight minutes, this track more accurately foreshadows the eccentricities that abound.
Uncommon themes are presented matter-of-factly throughout
Teens of Denial; it seems clear that the thoughts shared are clearly ones that have been revisited and further developed through periodic self-reflection. As a result, listeners should find themselves hard-pressed to find a throwaway line, as nearly everything is emotionally charged. On “1937 State Park,” Will laments,
“I didn’t want you to hear
That shake in my voice
My pain is my own”
The significance of Will’s words are clearly profound to both creator and listener, reaching levels of jarring honesty reminiscent of Father John Misty. This honesty leaves
Teens of Denial lingering over the flames of abrasion, but, much like a great fiction novel, it retains its relatability. Sprinkled throughout the record are crystallizing moments of profundity, and Will’s wisdom is showcased in Parquet Courts-esque tangents. These surface in the form of attention-grabbing lines that reflect Will’s seemingly unrelenting state of introspection. This introspection comes to a head within the growing pains of the 11 minute epic “The Ballad of the Costa Concordia,” in which Toledo explodes, reigniting the vivacious energy of the former half of the record. It’s a deeply personal existential crisis, and Will spares no white space articulating precisely what he feels, paying little mind to the constraints of traditional songwriting:
“How was I supposed to know how to hold a job? ...
How was I supposed to know how to not get drunk every
Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and - why not -Sunday?
How was I supposed to know how steer this ship?”
The dispersion of energy throughout
Teens of Denial, however, sometimes succumbs to the record’s seventy-minute runtime; but these lulls are not for lack of charm. Rather, it seems that at times the instrumentation is unsure whether it intends to be rudimentary or experimental in nature. The uneasiness of this juxtaposition is brief, and it resolves within the eccentric experimentation and grandiose narratives in Will’s longer tracks. These ambitious undertakings feel like masterfully developed indulgences, and the result of their inclusion is an incredible cohesive honesty unlike anything in contemporary indie rock. This record is a reflection of Will Toledo’s life, insecurities, and growth as an artist.
