Review Summary: “I miss the ocean”
There has never been a time in my life where I have actually thought that a band or an album or a song has saved my life. Sure, Ocean Avenue helped me see that I wasn’t alone in a heartshatteringly brutal break up and Julien Baker showed me that the absurd absence of feeling that comes with depression is not abstract or unique. This isn’t to say that I’ve never had dark thoughts. Suicide is a near-constant in my mind and the gauntlet of medications I’ve gone through and continue to go through help only for a few months before I become lethargic or apathetic or absent. The older I’ve gotten and the more I’ve learned about my illness, the more I’ve grown to understand it. I no longer believe that these feelings (or lack thereof) will ever go away, but I also now understand that there are moments where they are muted or silenced completely. They are still there, but their voices and threats aren’t as loud. This is how the music helps: it doesn’t eliminate the thoughts as much as cover them up, replacing them with something more beautiful.
And these bands that have found homes in my head, chord progressions and licks and shouted phrases, make it difficult for me to piece together an objective review of their new work, especially a work as ambitious and emotional as
Sister Cities. One can argue that all music reviews are subjective, but with these bands and albums and songs that have helped smother the depression in my mind, it feels different. When I heard that the Wonder Years were dropping their (self-proclaimed) most important album, I knew almost instantly that it wouldn’t be anything other than a perfect score. I gave
No Closer to Heaven a 5/5 after just a listen and a half and although it’s dropped .5 since,
The Greatest Generation and
Suburbia will never disappear from the top of my all-time favorites list. Although the band has since distanced themselves with their beloved mascot, Hank the Pigeon follows me around wherever I go. A birthday present to myself, I had Hank and the words “I’m not sad anymore” tattooed permanently to my body, on the pretense that the Wonder Years would never waver from my heart. And they haven’t. I’m still sad, like, all the ***ing time, but much like the band’s music, it’s there to remind me that there is a getting-through. Did the band just find their way into my ears at the right time in my life¿ Probably. Could there have been another band that took their place¿ Absolutely. Does this mean that the Wonder Years are just another pop-punk band that I’ll eventually grow away from¿ I don’t really have an answer for that.
Unlike a vast majority of their contemporaries, The Wonder Years actively work to progress and improve upon their music in ways that push both the band and the fans to evolve. Gone are the pop-punk I-hate-the-suburbs anthems of The Upsides and Dan Campbell is no longer worried as much about his friends leaving as he is about them dying, and isn’t that just how life works¿ Instead of maintaining their hyper-specific lyric brand of pop-punk that brought in the majority of their fan-base, Campbell & co. aren’t worried about fan service, but that isn’t to say they don’t still care a great deal about their fans. Although in my experiences at Wonder Years live shows, the sentiments have felt staged and scripted, Campbell makes sure that everyone in the venue knows how much they mean to him while bashfully understanding his own importance in each of their lives. TWY occupy a spot in the music community where the symbiotic relationship between band and fan isn’t just important, but essential for the survival of both. Thus, we as Wonder Years fans receive the relationship that Death Grips fans are blissfully unaware of while maintaining a constantly evolving (and bettering) discography that, say, The Story So Far fans don’t know is actually possible
And this is where I am able to articulate my adoration for TWY: someone who is constantly growing and trying to better themselves while still holding onto (but not obsessing over) the past. While the obsession over hating and wanting to leave your hometown (while simultaneously loving every inch of it) is what originally drew me so strongly toward the band, it’s their progression that kept me coming back. Show an 18 year old me a song like “Flowers Where Your Face Should Be” or “Pyramids of Salt” or “The Ocean Grew Hands to Hold Me” and I would have told you to *** off with that emo ***, and while those people (somehow) still exist, it’s important to acknowledge the strides the band has taken in order to be where they are now.
The Wonder Years may not be a band that lasts me a lifetime. Eventually, after their break up or my solidification in adulthood, I’ll transfer my love to another band that aligns more with myself and my feelings, but until then, I will continue to grow with the Wonder Years, recognizing that there will never be a time when I don’t feel this way, but knowing I’ve felt worse, knowing I can grow and change and adapt and find moments--even if that’s all they are, just moments--where I’m able to exist above the water.
