Review Summary: The shape of punk that came.
For the best part of a decade now, I’ve had something of an auto-response for any contemporary band introduced to me as ‘post hardcore’:
gosh, so sorry for them. There’s a time and place to discuss the recycling of ideas and toxic egomania that has run the genre’s 3rd wave and all its Sacramento bullshit into the ground, but I think the most pertinent reflection of this can be seen elsewhere: practically every mover-and-shaker of the ‘20s has made its case with sounds either directly rebooted from or closely adjacent to the genre’s 2nd wave heyday. Just last year, Static Dress laid down a delightfully lurid makeover of every MySpace trope you never realised you’d missed, while Gatherers have done a passable job at rebooting the legacy of Glassjaw and Thursday, and Turnstile are playing retroactive history by aping the likes of Helmet, Faith No More and
S.C.I.E.N.C.E. into a punkified ‘00s-that-might-have-been. Sure, one still encounters the occasional trail-blazing weirdo as per Gezan or (being generous) Nouns, but by and large there's a sense that someone, somewhere has pressed a big ol’ reset button, and that we are much the better for it.
Nashville three-piece Idle Threat and their debut LP
Blurred Visions fit into this scheme like a choice plate of leftovers in a warm oven. Packaged in crisp overdrive and
slightly off-kilter grooves, their sound recalls the earnestness of post-
Vheissu Thrice and As Cities Burn on their “‘84 Sheepdog” bloodlettings: by and large, a welcome revival. Was that ‘earnestness’ as the point of comparison with two (essentially) Christian bands? You betcha. Idle Threat pick precisely zero bones with the Jesus question (repent and rejoice baby); their lyrics are about as saturated with inadequacy-of-man/only-way-is-Yahweh narratives as any. However, these benefit from adequate penmanship and largely come off more as the result of meaningful acts of introspection than as prescriptive harpings, lending meaningful bedrock to performances that place great weight thereupon. Factor in robust band chemistry and energy levels well-pitched to the needs of those whose metabolic fortitude and existential angst lie beyond the scope of your typical Sunday song and [dance], and the portents are encouraging.
Opener “Driftwood” certainly takes this in its stride, kicking down the door in short order and navigating shifts of momentum tight as the grip presumably exerted by vocalists Zeke McKinney and Ernie Fabian around their mics/headstocks/conjugal principles. The band clutch onto a single propulsive groove and layer intensity on and off as appropriate; the tide shifts, their rock is firm. They are at their best when they fixate on a single core songwriting nugget in this way, as we later hear on “Damage Control”’s all-too-short foray into rousing melodic hardcore and the tenacious guitar motif that anchors the album-capping closer “No Turning Back”. Even the demure “Simon", though a little on the plain side, at least sets out a coherent ballad of insecurity and denial.
Things run aground somewhat when the band’s songwriting adopts a composite approach. Idle Threat demands that their tracks thrive equally on each individual section in spite of occasionally erratic consistency in both writing and performance. "Cinder" is a case-in-point, packing a rapturous melodic coda that rounds off the track like a charm, only to prelude it with a breakdown so strained and ragged that it scans as little more than a circumstantial set-up tool - obligatory darkness to complement authentic light, or what have you. “Safety in the Shade” falls into a similar trap, devoting its entire first half to a contourless alt rock meander immemorable for anything beyond the springboard it provides for a following midway explosion.
Credit where it’s due, the band are generally on-point for individual gearshifts, but their command of an overall trajectory often leaves much to be desired. There’s a lingering impression that they have taken on the
principles of good songwriting (no surprise given their apparent influences) but have yet to perfect their sense of where these sit in the scheme of their own strengths and weaknesses. Encouragingly,
Blurred Visions’ weakest moments are tied more to ungainly pacing than to any outright mishaps; it’s hardly damning to hear a young band working out the kinks in their style this way, and I have little doubt that better things lie ahead for them (so long as they keep up the conviction at the heart of this record). It’s highly unlikely that they’ll ever end up recreating post hardcore in their own image, but that’s no reason not to anticipate them raising a few roofs.
