Review Summary: Force meets presence
If there's one band that can thrust themselves into your line of sight and effortlessly occupy, nay,
captivate, the space around them, it's Converge. I think this is a truism that can unite their most ardent listeners with their most jaundiced detractors. Historically, I've fallen into the latter category. Go ahead, rake me over the coals. Their landmark album
Jane Doe is a pillar of both its genre and underground music in general, but when I heard it for the first time, I just didn't get the hype. I've warmed up to it, and to the band, considerably over time, but I'm still acutely aware of the nitpicks I had that made it difficult for me to initially buy what they were selling. Jacob Bannon's vocals were wholly unintelligible to me, so I had a hard time understanding how people could connect to it. Perhaps this critique wasn't always the fairest or most charitable, because we can't shortchange the obvious talent these guys have as musicians. If you want untrammeled chaos that will rock your damn socks off, this band is f*cking it, man.
That brings us to their eleventh studio album
Love Is Not Enough. The title reads a bit pessimistic, yeah? As someone who thinks love is a necessary respite, this could potentially be another barrier between myself and forging any kind of emotional attachment to the music. This is where I take my animus out of the equation, and try to walk in the other person's shoes for a second. I say love is the respite, but who's to say you couldn't need a respite from that sometimes also? Perhaps, sometimes you just need to filter out your more jaded and crestfallen emotions, to process them, and I think that's where Converge dutifully comes in. With the title track starting us off, the frenzied energy acts as a pressure valve to elicit this filtering out we alluded to. "We learn nothing without gaping wounds/We must accept that love is not enough," Bannon emphatically declares. Like it or not, he's right. Growth isn't possible without those uncomfortable but inevitable trials that life throws at us. Mileage may vary on how exactly you deal with them, but he's certainly correct that stumble and strife are oft-necessary obstacles. If you're not scanning the lyrics too much, Ben Koller's drumming and Kurt Ballou's raucous riffs are a treat by themselves. I had to replay this opening cut a few times because it's just f*cking rad as a composition.
As we trek through the album, the band toys with a decidedly wide berth of ideas. They're no one-trick-pony just constantly beating you upside the head with blistering fury. The mid-stage instrumental piece "Beyond Repair" comes to mind, with its slow, cinematic vibe leading you to think it's about to hit a crescendo it never reaches, but then it kicks right into the payoff of "Amon Amok", which is chock full of catchy riffs and hard-hitting percussive prowess. The theme of 'accepting' that which is not easily accepted again comes to the fore, and this time, it seems Bannon is impressing upon the listener an invitation to self-reliance, as he urges; "Be your own light when there is none." Against the backdrop of an instrumental as brooding as the album's narrative chassis, there's an understated optimism that can easily be extrapolated, which gives the message that much more depth and consequence.
Dock points for repetition if you must, but 'acceptance' once again plays a large part in building the later romp "Gilded Cage" into what it is. Ostensibly influenced by recent events, Bannon laments system failure and complacency of the masses therein, but assures that his ceding the reality of the situation 'is not defeat,' again suggesting a glimmer of hope embedded deep within. George Carlin once said; "If you scratch a cynic, you'll find a disappointed idealist,' and perhaps Bannon exemplifies that. Putting lyrics aside just for a moment, my favorite elements of this track are its dramatic buildup and borderline entrancing extended outro. These guys are brilliant musicians, and there's no two ways about it. "We Were Never The Same" closes things out by way of hearkening back to the weary sensations we endured earlier in the album, as Bannon bemoans that 'we've learned nothing in our distance.' Thinking about what he means, maybe the thing he's the most bitter about is what he perceives to be a squandering of that brief streak of light I saw balking through all the turmoil. I don't wish to speak for him, but that's just one possible way one could make sense of his words. Instrumentally, it's another punishing jaunt, with Ballou's sizzling guitars and Bannon's wailing screams powering us through right up to the final seconds.
Love Is Not Enough is a beautifully complicated collection of songs. It's pissed off, but purpose persists. Surely, there's gotta still be a reason to roll out of bed and keep trucking along, right? Even if the optimist in me never falters, I could certainly get it if someone needed to tune everything out and just channel their feelings through an outlet with the weight of a battering ram. And that's where Converge seems to always succeed. They waltz in, blow your mortal eardrums away, and leave your house looking like a tsunami touched down. As you listen, they'll get you to think, even while you're enjoying all of the unbridled instrumental mayhem. Suffice to say, I've gained an affection for Converge over time I didn't have before. I'm glad to now welcome them into my rotation.
Love Is Not Enough is
excellent.
