Review Summary: Eve explores multiple interesting ideas and detours from Emery's typical sound M.O., but they don't quite coalesce into a cohesive whole.
In 2007, post-hardcore band Emery released I’m Only A Man; their third LP on Tooth & Nail records. While at the time it received mixed reviews, fans of the band have grown to love the album for its more alternative leanings and darker subject matter than the releases preceding it, solidifying itself as a classic in the ever-growing Emery discography. Their 2018 release Eve shares many traits with the aforementioned album. This is for the positive in some regards, with a return to some slightly more alt-rock attributes not often explored by the band, but also unfortunately for the negative in several others as its departures also oftentimes result in a decisively mixed bag of an album that, at the end of the day, just does not result in a cohesive whole.
Eve begins in a relatively unassuming fashion with “Is This the Real Life,” a slow contemplative piece that may not grab listeners at the starting line with its more head-bopping pace and slightly janky key change between the verses and chorus, but will warrant repeat listens as it bursts into an energetic finale. In many ways, “Is This the Real Life” acts as a thesis statement to Eve’s approach, as the contrast between painfully slow and abrupt bursts of heavy moments.
The album conveys a strange sense of ebb and flow, with the momentum of one track being instantly stopped in its tracks by another. For instance, one of the album’s highlights “People Always Ask Me if We’re Gonna Cuss in an Emery Song,” an aggressive, powerful track showcasing some of Emery’s tried and true strengths is followed by “Streets of Gold,” that brings the album pace to a crawl for two full minutes before finally breaking into a fantastic minute-and-a-half of I’m Only A Man-era Emery that makes the wait almost worth it, yet can’t quite make up for it.
Masterful lyricism that balances poetic ambiguity and refreshing bluntness at one moment can often give way to lyrics so corny and out of step that many listeners may be taken out of whatever message the band is attempting to convey. Songs like “Young Boy’s Dream” attempt to use this style of balance and counterbalance to convey a sense of nostalgia and childhood optimism, but doesn’t quite hit the mark.
Eve features the return of co-frontman Devin Shelton to full band-member status, not only lending his vocals as he did in the band’s 2015 release You Were Never Alone, but also contributing writing duties, applying a smooth, almost R&B vibe to several portions of the album. This is fully on display in the track “Safe,” in which the earnestness of both Shelton’s lyrics as well as a truly emotional delivery saves it from being a forgettable ballad. “Shame” likewise allows Shelton to flex his strongest R&B muscles to set a groovy tone that carries for the first half of the track, and despite staggering a bit with some less than stellar lyrics in its B-segment, ends as a strong track.
In another parallel to You Were Never Alone, Eve once more foregoes keyboard synths almost entirely resulting in a straight-forward sounding rock album with the strongest emphasis focused on the trade-off vocal prowess of Shelton and fellow frontman Toby Morrell, with the moments of the highest degree of interplay between the two being the album’s highlights; the aforementioned “People Always Ask Me if We’re Going to Cuss in an Emery Song” being one and another excellent example being “Name Your God,” that opens with a smooth, jazzy intro evolving into a strong, bittersweet track that cements itself as the emotional zenith of Eve.
The barebones approach to album production implemented in Eve does a lot to highlight the talent and musicianship of the band, with the standout performance being clenched by drummer Dave Powell; the dry percussion leaves nowhere to hide but fortunately his intricate, oftentimes jazzy approach will generally be the strongest takeaway of most tracks. While this minimalist approach to production benefitted You Were Never Alone with a raw, in the trenches feel, here it highlights the greatest weakness on display in Eve: the song arrangement.
Odd key changes and abrupt cuts from one portion of a song to another causes many tracks to feel less like full songs and more like multiple idea fragments being hastily stitched together into something that approached a respectable track-length despite the songs themselves feeling incomplete. Songs can feel as though they are ending before entering into a part B that sounds like an entirely different song altogether, or one song can be inexplicably split into two for no discernible difference like “Fear Yourself” and “Jesus Wept.” Admittedly, despite being a strange stylistic choice, these two songs do display Emery’s trademark melodic rock with moments of piercing aggression, while also hearkening back to a vocal approach by Morrell that many may find reminiscent to the band’s early work.
This lack of coherence has not typically been the case for Emery. While Emery songs often have had wildly varying parts from one another in the past, this time around these shifts feel less like contrast and more like disjointed individual pieces. There are still several highlights present here, but it nonetheless leaves Eve feeling less like an album and more like a loose collection of tracks intended to be released as standalone singles. This can be felt in the songs on Eve that decide to diverge from the general vibe that the album conveys, despite being serviceable songs on their own like the album’s poppiest song “Everything That She Offered Me” that explores Emery’s tried-and-true relationship subject matter that remains a decent though ultimately forgettable track. However titles like the penultimate track “2007 Clarksville High Volleyball State Champs Gay is OK” takes a significantly different approach from the rest of the album, taking strong musical cues from early 2000’s Pedro the Lion. Unfortunately, despite the earnest and heartfelt subject matter, Morrell doesn’t seem to be able to emulate Dave Bazan’s ability to punctuate the song with piercing, almost thesis statement-like lines needed to bring it above the level of decent, resulting in what seems like a missed opportunity.
In keeping with the album’s strange ebb and flow, we are also given the two-part intermission tracks “Flesh” and “Bones” that don’t necessarily stop Eve dead in its tracks – mostly due to their short lengths and an effective, almost grunge-y acoustic segment by Morrell in the latter – but they certainly pump the brakes a bit. That said, for every questionable track, Eve generally counterbalances it with a strong track to compensate. The album is rounded out by “Sins of Every Father” a song that begins with an almost math-y style before evolving into a crashing crescendo before the cutting shriek of “I’m so sick of it all” that slowly fades the album to a close.
Due to the “kitchen sink” approach to songwriting, Eve does not have the coherence that Emery albums generally achieve. Despite several strong offerings, the majority of the album tends to sound like two or more idea fragments combined together to create an adequate-length track with little being done to make them feel like complete songs. There is enjoyment to be found here in doses and fervent Emery fans will appreciate many of its quirks and odd track balance; but if a strong album experience from front to back is what you’re after, Emery’s Eve may fall noticeably short of expectations.
