A-F Records – 26 October 2022
It’s not always sunny in Pittsburgh but this is what a silver lining sounds like…
Expanding only slightly on the experimentation in their previous release, Missing Parts, Pennsylvania natives Nightmarathons bring back that same notable brand of impassioned anthems and, while I prefer not to pigeonhole, they come across as a quintessential Fest band encompassing the emotional aspects of sentimental songwriting that, as their songs unravel, come to be sung in unison by a bunch of scruffy looking softies seeking therapy through sound. If that is indeed their aim, by those metrics, they’re making good on their intentions in a masterful way. Sounding somewhat like Leatherface and a little like Samiam (truth be told they even have a t shirt with a strikingly similar logo on it, of which I’m a proud owner), Hidden Vigorish feels like it could have been produced by Chuck Ragan or Bryan Fallon, both of which I would argue contribute considerable inadvertent influence in the sonic images the band creates but, considering the album was actually recorded by Ryan Williamson, there’s no surprises in drawing comparisons to Signals Midwest either.
They begin by planting a seed that grows into something that resembles soul searching and harvested with a hedonistic howl. “Do you wanna get better?” “Better,” is the resulting fruit and has the faint scent of Bruce Springsteen and the aroma of Arms Aloft. If you can taste what the guitars are cooking, what’s to come should be a treat and “Senseless” plays to the palette with a pinch of Against Me! Soft palm mutes and a somber melody are juxtaposed with the aggressive manner in which the audience is addressed as if being grabbed by the shoulders and shouted at. “Please just pay attention! Will you start making sense!?” They swallow what’s left with contrasting guitar riffs and dig right into “Abandon.” It’s spicy from the start but there’s an alternating intensity to it as they bring things down with a galloping snare beat mixed with sparkling strings before exploding again into a wall of distortion and a thick stew of communal singing, it’s kinda what they do best. There’s definite dynamic changes which seem to be a solid staple in their songwriting. “Wooooooah!” Iron Chic anyone?
Out of the frying pan and into the fire, they relish in the relatable in “Wrong.” The sentiments described are unequivocally ubiquitous, something that somehow finds itself inside us all but, damn, if that that choral chant isn’t contagious. Turning up the heat even more, they’re taking control with confidence in “Elevator” with a four chord fury before nonchalantly detouring into a deafening blend of noise somewhere between Dinosaur Jr and label mates New Junk City before chomping right back into the never ending melodic nature of nuance they’re known for. Grungy guitars, gruff gang vocals, and another chance to sing along.
As if taking a short intermission, allowing the previous permutations to marinate, they continue with “Complicated” using subtle string rolls and ringing out with a little reverb alongside their favored flavor of harmonies. Kinda like Kid You Not. There’s a similar seasoning in “Enough” as staccato strikes dance symbiotically with soft strums in the verse meandering toward a marvelously monotonous yet meticulous lead melody as they clean up the string section ever so slightly. There’s also some light layering in the vocal delivery providing a little space. Sometimes less is more and they certainly have their sound down to a science. “Have you had enough?” Let’s hear a little more…
Simply easing in rhythmically with another round of rolling guitar riffs at the ready, “Bridge” seems somewhat reminiscent of RVIVR or a little like Ezra Kire singing Latterman songs. A match made in Heaven? Maybe but it also seems to signify the moment the clouds roll in as “Deadline” strikes a darker chord than it’s counterparts. It may take a little longer to digest but it lingers like the ominous opening scene to an 80’s slasher flick, which stalks a series of sporadic strums leaving room for the thump of the rhythm section and throat shredding theatrics, before hitting the bridge with a hint of hardcore and finally bleeding back into a similar classic vintage soundtrack vibe. As the survivors hint at a sequel, the credits roll as the antagonists make their “Getaway ” with octave lead riffs and power chords decorated with sparkling string work. It’s another ear worm and the words seem repetitive for a reason. It certainly makes it easy to contribute your own crooning from the crowd.
As they take leave, “Not The End” is almost organically operatic in nature. Calling it a bristling ballad might be a bridge to far but the song builds into something bold and bountiful before leaving your ears bleeding. Ironically it’s “not the end that I’ve been looking for” but it’s the end I didn’t know I needed and it’s cooked to perfection. I expected an aggressive adieu but ended up with a fond farewell, a form fitting end to the sometimes frantic and somewhat forlorn feelings expressed in the preceding songs that together create a cohesive and creative counter as their sophomore effort sprinkled with salty sweat like early Jimmy Eat World, pierced eardrums and all. It’s quite a complex dessert course.
From beginning to end the guitars go from gently overdriven to gritty, occasionally growling or grating with straightforward lead licks that sometimes seem searing while other times shimmering. The bass has some seriously beautiful bite reverberating with a voracious and complimentary character, a strong stew pairing perfectly with the drums which are a delicate decadence in and of themselves adding the richness and depth of a well whipped soufflé. They vigorously trade vocal duties as if there’s no such thing as too many cooks in the kitchen mixing somehow clean and congested choruses, their hearty harmonies sung high on second hand smoke, like an earthy ensemble of mid tempo emotional musings mixed with a wee bit of whiskey. It’s sweet, savory, and sour all at the same time.
Some of you might be familiar with my very open infatuation with Ohio bands but the Keystone State seems to be on par with it’s next door neighbor having it’s own outstanding list of stellar bands and Pittsburgh’s Nightmarathons should be comfortably nestled among them. I can picture myself singing these songs with pints held high, arm in arm with friends, belting out the words from our bellies. I can almost see the silver Pennsylvania skies and and salivate at the thought of savoring it with the sweetness of a sudsy iron city and, although I’m beginning to be a bit of a broken record here, I believe all bands should have a stable of singers at their disposal. When it comes to vocals, the more the merrier, and by adding the the right ratio of harmonic and instrumental ingredients they’ve perfected their recipe. I just have one question… when are you guys gonna let Tim sing one?
Jerred Lazar is a make believe musician and wannabe writer attempting to survive in Washington DC
