Review Summary: Forgiveness?
There is a generally accepted sentiment amongst literary/artistic theorists that context is one of the key defining points for understanding of a piece of art. Controversy, betrayal, internal conflict within the scene, all of these are important elements to keep in mind when digesting a piece of art, no matter how personal the relationship is between the listener and the artist. Such an understanding is often what brings a greater enjoyment of such art. Would Burzum’s music really have such an emotional effect were it not that he actually wasn’t a legitimate white nationalist convicted of crimes against Christianity and murder? To a more relevant example, would Jesse Lacey’s bruised and anguished screaming throughout Brand New’s career be as emotionally potent had he not been someone tormented by legitimate demons that lead to criminal actions against children? Demons that lead to actions to vile that many can no longer look upon him the same way? Such is a case with fail better, heal faster; the context of an internal collapse of the emo scene’s favorite band as a result of a mistake made by an emotionally fragile member of the LGBT+ community is what gives this project power in its themes of forgiveness, deconstruction, and healing. At least at first glance.
In truth, this album is a pity party built on gaslighting written by a dumpster fire of a human being and supplemented by their unknowing fanbase (including, at one point, yours truly).
The context is what destroys this album. The genuinely emotional vocal performance on “Reflex” is completely destroyed upon applying context to the text. The lyrics call for a sincere apology to someone that Lou Diamond (the creative figurehead of this project) has acknowledged and made a public statement towards. But alas, this song was written, recorded, and released all while another victim of sexual assault in Diamond’s history went unheard and unacknowledged by the one we are lead to believe apologies from.
Such lyrical and textual inconsistencies are prevalent through the entire album. The subtle shots taken at PWR BTTM on “Pwr Outage”, the rage against toxic masculinity on “Queer Recovery Club”, and the bold statement of how “...we are our own abusers, but we are still humans first”. Who is this statement for, Diamond? This album is about your forgiveness, who is we? The statement is no longer responsible, it is deflective of responsibility; erroneously blaming a system of societal pressure on behavior that is absolutely not common amongst people, especially not people of non-binary gender (such as, once again, yours truly).
Musically? The album is freaking flawless. By the divine beings, this person must have sold their soul to write songs because their skills at creating beautiful pieces of math-influenced emo has been visible since Panucci’s Pizza. This is to say nothing of their guitar skills, either, which are Godly. Nods must be given to Sam Becht as well, who plays the drums within an inch of his life as he always does. If, truly, context is key to understanding, it is not at all key to mindless enjoyment.
And let that be the deciding factor for whether this album is worth your time. Musically, if you liked JANK, you’ll like this. If you liked any emo from whatever revivalist wave we are on right now, then, musically, you will like this. But if you like emo with, say, heart? With genuine human compassion? Then nah, this ain’t the place. And with that, Mx. Lou Diamond, jam me away to my versace summer while I finally put this emotionally dysfunctional excuse of a review to rest.
