TGEFM is proud to present: Jersey Calling‘s debut album Punk Rock Retirement, the first new music in well over a decade from the band, initially active from 2002-2004. After months in lock down spent thinking about an explosive relationship and the effects COVID-19 has had on both the outside world and in our minds and homes, Jersey Calling put pen to paper, fingers to chords, and wrote their way out of an indefinite hiatus.
Guitarist and vocalist Josh Kates was gracious enough to provide a track by track breakdown of each of the album’s 11 songs and a little bit of history about this band of not-quite-rookies:
About 16 years ago, I had a conversation with my friend, Bob, about the hopeful longevity of my fledgling band, Jersey Calling. As he finished his beer, he laughingly stated that we were already well past “punk rock retirement age,” since we were already 22 at the time. A few years later, in 2006, I recorded what I expected would be my last album with a band, since I was preparing for my last year of college, studying abroad, and preparing for my career as a Spanish teacher.
I blink and it’s September of 2020, I’m 38 years old, I’ve been teaching for 13 years, and I’ve just written and recorded 11 brand new songs about love, loss, and self-reflection over the span of the past nine months. In late February, I reached out to my former band mates in Jersey Calling, guitarist Sean Breslin and bassist Randy Ballinger, who excitedly agreed to help bring these songs to life. A few weeks later, I approached one of my fellow teachers, José Diaz, an amazing musician and veteran of cover bands The Heartbeats and The Interns, and somehow tricked him into playing drums for the new record. When they asked if I had a title in mind, my conversation with Bob came flooding back to me, and “Punk Rock Retirement” was born.
Check out Punk Rock Retirement and read along with the story behind each song below.
- “Anthem of the Alchemist”
As quarantine pressed on into the spring months, I remember seeing a comment on social media about the negative mindset of “loneliness” versus the positive one of “solitude.” I did not feel peaceful, and was still reveling in self-pity as I sat inside the concrete walls of my apartment. Writing “Anthem of the Alchemist” (track 1) helped me process my self-loathing and fear of acknowledging the parts of my personality I found objectionable. It was only through recognizing them and writing them out on paper that I could face them and become the truest version of myself. I always wanted to be a hero, but often saw myself as a villain. The truth, of course, was somewhere in between. Journaling, songwriting, and therapy helped to reveal that to me.
2. “The Thrill of the Chase”
Treating sex and love like the drugs I used to abuse was a blind spot in my sobriety, and the lyrics of “The Thrill of the Chase,” track 2 on the album, touch on that. I would dedicate myself wholeheartedly to the pursuit of intimacy, but once it was attained, I often lost interest and became unsatisfied. The fact that my short-lived relationship had ended in rejection left me wanting to feel needed, and I continued to try to bargain my grief away. The pursuit left a feeling of ugly desperation in my mouth, and I decided to end it before she did, because that was the only way I felt I could regain control of the situation.
3. “Toxic Romantic”
Having experienced the catharsis and relief which comes from songwriting, a feeling I hadn’t felt in over a decade, I delved further into my feelings, turning my attention on my own toxic behavior as the relationship came to a tumultuous end. “Toxic Romantic,” track 3 of the album, was my acknowledgment of my codependent tendencies and ideation of the kind of romance that largely exists in the movies and other works of fiction. My patterns in past relationships pointed to an emphasis on passionate love and an avoidance of the harsh realities of dealing with some of the more difficult aspects of sharing my life with someone. This had caused feelings of escapism, had led me to being unfaithful, and likely played a part in my former substance abuse problems.
4. “Greybeard the Stagnant”
We began practicing in June, doing our best to respect social distancing and mask guidelines as we did so in Sean’s basement. Five days after our first practice together as a band, I began to wonder if my songwriting and lyrics were really meaningful in any real way, or if I was just trying to recapture my youth in a pathetic mid-life crisis. Thus, “Greybeard the Stagnant,” track 4, was born. The lyrics are an examination of how I perceive the most negative aspects of myself, and a desire to let go of my obsessive perfectionism with regard to songwriting. After all, if Milo from The Descendents can still write catchy melodic lines in punk songs about angst in relationships, how pretentious is it to think I can or should do better?
5. “In Love with the Idea of Being in Love”
In late January of this year, a flash-fire relationship that I started two months before was coming to a bitter end, and I realized that I had jumped the gun on saying those three words. The anxiety of impending rejection and heartache was upon me, and picking up my songbook and a pencil for the first time in 14 years, I etched out the lyrics and music that expressed my fear of being alone. I realized at that point that I wasn’t in love. I was merely “In Love with the Idea of Being in Love,” which became track 5 of the album.
6. “She’s Hazardous”
I stayed up all night after the breakup and wrote “She’s Hazardous,” track 6, sometime around 3am. The lyrics and upbeat music perfectly encompass the blurred line I walked between lust and love. I had conflated the two words for years, and to me they were one and the same. My therapist pointed out my pattern of overemphasizing the physical aspect of love over the mental, emotional, and spiritual. That hit home, and this song diagnoses that addictive feeling of infatuation.
7. “It’s Only Over When It’s Over (and Baby It’s Over)”
“It’s Only Over when it’s Over (And, Baby, it’s Over),” track 7, was written in February on the day I broke off the relationship, but not my obsession. I told myself that I was facing down the end of it, and that I could take it, but I was still living in denial. I cycled through the first 4 stages of grief for months afterward, which felt like the darkest places of my addiction. I reached out to other people I knew in recovery and leaned on them for support. Were it not for them, my therapist, and the outlet of songwriting, I might have caved in to my older coping mechanisms, because I hadn’t been in such a negative headspace since before I got sober.
8. “Our Last Day Outside”
The “stay-at-home” order in New Jersey went out the morning of the day I wrote “Our Last Day Outside,” track 8. My life and world became much more internalized than it had ever been, and I was resentful of the safety guidelines. No one likes being told what to do, especially not a man who grew up listening to bands like NOFX, Bad Religion, Green Day, Against Me!, and Less Than Jake. This song reflected my anti-authority mentality and skepticism of sacrifice for a greater good. I, like many, was distrustful of government control, and scoffed at the idea of being forced inside my apartment in solitude. This song helped me process those feelings instead of acting out on them in ways that could have been harmful to others around me.
9. “Heiress of My Heart”
I was starting to move on from the relationship. I still had occasional relapses of texting her, but I was resolved to recover from my codependency issues and focus on building my self-esteem, which had always been based on my fragile ego. “Heiress of my Heart,” track 9, became the last song I wrote about my feelings for this woman and my refusal to let go. I surrendered to the fact that it was over and stuck my toe in the pool of the final stage of grief — acceptance. I continued to speak with my therapist, friends, and recovery network throughout the process, and decided to talk with my old bandmates about recording the 6 songs I’d just written. We had planned to practice in late March and record the songs during my spring break vacation in April. What could go wrong?
10. “Backbone”
I practiced one-on-one with José, my friend, colleague, and Jersey Calling’s new drummer, on March 7th and ran through the 6 songs I’d planned for the short album we were going to record and release in the spring. A week later, the COVID-19 pandemic closed the school district we worked for…along with the rest of the world. I wrote some freeform lines in my journal which became the lyrics to “Backbone,” track 10 of the album. These lyrics felt different from the songs I’d written previously, as they expressed the inner fear I had of the new world we faced with the pandemic. Social media and the cultural zeitgeist began to explode with conspiracy theories about the state of the world. I tried to deconstruct all of the thoughts in my head, to get down to the core of who I was as a human being, and also began reading some spiritual literature as I continued my therapy over the phone.
11. “The Broken People”
“The Broken People,” track 11, was one of the last songs I wrote for the album on April 7, 2020. I started to feel a sense of camaraderie with others who were struggling during quarantine, and I wanted to write a song that conveyed the idea that we all suffer – that the common thread we all share as human beings is that, in one way or another, we are all broken people. The pandemic dragged many of the problems we face as a society into the light: mental health, racism, poverty, and a sense of isolation. The idea of ‘shared isolation’ may look like an oxymoron, but it seems like an apropos term to use for many of us over the past several months. In the lyrics to this song, I tried to address my own feelings of separation, anxiety, disappointment, anger, and resignation to the lack of control I have over some aspects of my life. I believe that these feelings are probably not unique to my own psyche, and I hope – even though we’re “the ones that nobody’s ever coming to save” – that we can listen to one another and help prop each other up in times of struggle; because in my own life experience, that has been the best part of being alive.
