Review Summary: Life is just too sweet to lie in this defeat
Lift A Sail is an album that, arguably more so than any other in the Yellowcard canon, needs to be understood in order to be appreciated. For this, the legendary pop-punk group's ninth studio album, and first without founding drum god Longineu Parsons III, it's important to note the time it was released in. For Ryan Key, he had just gotten married (the couple sadly split years later), and at the age of 34 by this time, had seemingly outgrown the hopeless romanticism that defined several seminal pop-punk efforts such as
Paper Walls and
Southern Air. As for Yellowcard, things weren't so rosy. As mentioned, Parsons had left the band and, by Key's own admission, the remaining four seemed to be arriving at a crossroads both personally and professionally. Relationships were souring, ticket sales were dwindling, and retrospective statements from Key have depicted a band during this time that had seemingly lost all of the positive energy that was generated in their post-hiatus return. The band was also writing different music. Yellowcard was (and is) the band of summertime; warm vibes, warmer instrumentals, nostalgia, frantic emotions. All of that was mostly traded away for an arena-rock/pop-rock/alt-rock assemblage. While it's garnered some critical reappraisal in the past decade, how
Lift A Sail stacks up to its decidedly superior predecessors is still a subject of debate among fans. I too sometimes ask -
What the heck is this thing?
As I posited at the outset,
Lift A Sail is a different beast than the band's past material. Though it means scaling back on Sean Mackin's signature violin swells and the familiar sunny coastal vibes, it still succeeds as a natural evolution of the band's sound. It's not a hard, or even a soft, reinvention, but it is the band's most ambitious affair since
Lights and Sounds, straying even farther from their traditional pop-punk formula than that album ever dared to. 'Lights and sounds' is actually a good descriptor of the whole ordeal. When I close my eyes, I can envision myself in a giant stadium, packed to the brim with enthusiastic fans and about to be set ablaze by vivid lights or pyrotechnics and expressive instrumentals. That's exactly how it plays out.
Opening instrumental piece "Convocation" glides us in on Mackin's violins which, despite the subtle melancholia, set up the bigger, louder and grander atmosphere the band aims to establish. This takes us right into the thoughtful "Transmission Home." Anberlin's Nate Young is sitting in for Parsons here, and while he can't quite capture LP's unmistakable sound or energy, he whacks away at the kit with purpose and intent, helping to create that expansive sound. Ryan Mendez's volcanic riffs also work as a central bedrock, as Key finds himself yearning to close a physical, and perhaps even emotional, distance. Whether you view him through the obvious lens of a rock star on the road, or the space sailor implied in the song's imagery, he's trying to explore new opportunities, but he knows that doesn't have to mean leaving where the heart is behind ("I wanna wipe these stars from my eyes/I wanna search and see what I find.") The booming "Crash the Gates" follows a similar mold. This one is nothing short of
explosive. Keeping the astral vibes of "Trans Home" in mind for just a few beats longer, this stick of musical dynamite really does shoot up to the stratosphere when that fiery chorus hits; "Sing 'oh oh oh oh, whoa-oh oh. Crash the gates, light a fire and watch it burn," Key emphatically declares.
"Make Me So" opens with some fun and bouncy riffs that are reminiscent of many 2000s rock favorites, while the verses feature some skittering electronic flourishes. When Key declares "If I ever escape, I'm gonna love and give it a name," you can't help but ponder if he's alluding to the desire of building a family he's finally realized in recent times. "One Bedroom" meanwhile, deviates towards a sort of Third Eye Blind-esque flavor of arena rock. Here, Key invites his muse "Watch the waves with me. We can love like we are forever." "Fragile and Dear" really piles on the electronica influences, with Key's vocals on the verses being run through a vocoded filter, as he bemoans the loss of an unnamed companion ("Hold you up against the light. Speak the truth and say goodbye to you.") We do get treated to an awesome violin solo from Mackin near song's end though.
As we traverse forward, we settle in more comfortably to the main set of themes and sensations Key and the band are feeling and wish to impress upon us, even if they're sometimes at odds with scant traces of the 'old' Yellowcard showing up. "Madrid" boasts Key's capability as a pop songwriter with Mendez's glassy riffs and Mackin's violin as a backdrop, but this quaint and brief segue (by design albeit) stops short before it can really get going. "The Deepest Well" marks a cameo from Memphis May Fire frontman Matty Mullins, and while it's a welcome return to distorted guitars and pop-punm-adjacent soundscapes, Mullins' boyish, plastic and listless vocals could easily be discarded, as Key handles things perfectly fine on his own.
With the home stretch now in sight, the title track "Lift A Sail" is, like so many in YC lore, towering and inspired. It doesn't quite sky on the back of the kind of the blistering instrumentals the band has thrilled us too in years past, but rather through a mixture of pulsating beats, another classic Mendez solo on the bridge, and Key's purposeful words of perseverance. "Life is just too sweet to lie in this defeat," he realizes, knowing that the struggles he's faced are not permanent. "With the last sail lifted high, I am ready now, I am ready now," he continues, forever buoyed by all the possibilities in front of him. The anthemic "My Mountain", by the same token, is another reminder that the connection Key forges with the listener isn't one of an artist-consumer dynamic. Rather, we're
partners on this journey, not allowing what's left us weathered and worn to shrink our giant hearts. He promises "I’m always with you like the child in your heart." While I'd prefer this one as an album bookend, the pleasant piano piece "California" is equally serviceable in this regard too.
California is
the spot that has colored and defined so many past Yellowcard favorites, including "Back Home", "With You Around" and, of course, "Ocean Avenue." Ending here and this way is honestly the appropriate thing to do. Instead of dwelling on days gone by or weaving some nostalgic imagery, Key is expressing thankfulness to his wife for the ways she's
illuminated his wife in his 'darkest days.' He doesn't seem scared or uncertain at all, rather hopeful and optimistic, as is the Yellowcard way really. "When shadows try to swallow me/You're the only light I'll ever need/And I, I'm holding on to you," he gratefully exhales.
Lift A Sail is brimming with grandeur. It's subdued and hollow when necessary, but it's mostly a loud, expansive, cinematic and
big event. It's an acquired taste for some, sure, but the context is needed to understand the internal logic behind these compositions. Though Key and company tackle a few different themes, or better yet, leave some in the past, they're still the same group of unwavering and unassailable friends, ready to take on the world with a clenched first and inspire you to do the same. God knows I sure as f*ck need the reminder I'm not alone right now.
Lift A Sail is a beautiful and worthy addition to Yellowcard's catalog. Long may it continue to slowly earn the luster it deserves, as it continues to give me something to hang onto, even in my own darkest days. The road ahead looks tough, but I won't falter. With the morning comes the rest of my life. So I will press on.
I am ready now...
