Fat Wreck Chords – October 22, 2021
This record should come with a warning label because the catchiness is contagious!
It’s been seven long years since the last release from the quartet from Carbondale, Illinois and they definitely didn’t disappoint. They’re still singing the same old songs, it’s quintessentially The Copyrights from start to finish and, to quote Grath Madden in “The 7th Copyrights Album” from the most recent Robot Bachelor record (of which drummer Luke McNeil had a helping hand in), “how many times can we write this song?” The answer is “over and over and over and over” but who cares when they’re consistently this good. I hope they keep it up.
“Part Of The Landscape” begins with just the sound of a single distorted guitar string, soon joined by bass and drums and Away We Go, it’s off to the races. Cycle through some staccato strumming and palm muting and before you know, it’s almost as if you’re in a room full of people singing the chorus. The first single, “Halos,” continues the with the same intensity taking a satirical shot at the church and I’m always up for a critical critique of Christianity. What’s the point of sitting by while the Worlds On Fire? Shit’s Fucked and there’s something we CAN do about it! Progress is never pretty and it rarely comes without a fight. They pump the breaks just a bit with “Stuck In The Winter,” the second single, but it still has that same infectious songwriting I’ve come to expect. Have you ever had to endure a depressing Midwestern winter? When “the sun is gone, it drops like an atom bomb” but there’s a silver lining and at some point “each day gets longer…”
They pick the pace back up a little on “Pretender” where their poppy brand of broken hearted love songs makes it’s first appearance before speeding down a straightaway into “No Dissertation.” They’re accelerating quickly before ringing out, leaving only feedback and the crack of the snare before rounding a curve into a series of hairpin turns, the octave guitar sounds serving as a guide most of the way through. They hang a left and take a detour back down lover’s lane in “Tell Molly,” a mid tempo tune with more of those slightly distant synth sounds and things chug along, taking a pleasure cruise down the strip before pounding the gas pedal on their way to the party in “Before Midnight.” “There’s nothing in the shadows as scary as what you see in the light of day / so stay a little longer because nothing good happens before midnight anyway.”
The songs continue to flow flawlessly into one another in an almost operatic way. They’re navigating their way through a war zone in “No Such Thing As Grown Ups” and you can almost hear the bombs falling, blasting in the background, but the sun starts to shine a little brighter again as they roll down the windows for a breath of fresh air. With “That One Week” they breathe a sigh of relief and bounce back down the highway feeling hopeful for the future. They continue winding their way through their seventh installment and the bassline really provides the backbone in “Brush Me Off,” which begins with a slight twang and the thump of the toms, blending beautifully with the brightness of the string sounds before finding themselves Knee Deep in downstrokes. However, they can see they’re in the home stretch as they race toward the finish line in “Enemies” and it’s a sweaty sprint. You can almost smell the exhaust fumes and smoke from the tires as the bound along at breakneck speed. Once again, the rhythm section really drives it home with an eloquently expressive low end and a striking snare attack so tell All Your People they better be ready…
By now they’ve left the competition in a cloud of dust, they’re in first place, there’s no one chasing, and it’s a leisurely stroll past the checkered flag. They’re taking their victory lap with “On Division” and, as they make their escape, they’re already loading their next stop into the GPS. Is it me or is there always a song about giving directions to the getaway driver? It’s time to get outta Dodge and a smelly van and a Worn Out Passport is the only way to survive small town life.
It’s hard for me to conjure up influences for a class act such as this. Sure they have Roots in the Ramones, but what self respecting punk band doesn’t nowadays? I’ve heard comparisons to the Dopamimes and Direct Hit! but they’ve crafted a sound that’s all their own and that’s what I love about them. To me, they just sound like themselves. They’re the devil I know and I’m always down to dance with the devil. Adam Fletcher’s voice is unmistakable, instantly recognizable, and the perpetual harmonies really hit home holding everything together. It’s not pop punk without harmonies and this album has them in spades. Bad Religion may have invented the “oozin’ aahs” but these folks have helped perfect them. They turn their amps up to eleven and the sound explodes like Fireworks. The solos are always straightforward, the subtle synths hide in the background adding an electric intensity that permeates throughout, the basslines are invariably articulate, and the drums are the healthy heartbeat driven by adrenaline. From downstrokes to double time and everything in between they’re a well oiled machine, masters of disguising the darkness in their material with mostly major chords, simplistic solos, and a steady stream of singalongs.
They’ll never forge anything that isn’t absolutely fabulous. If my next destination was a desert island, this one would be coming along for the ride.
Jerred Lazar is a make believe musician and wannabe writer attempting to survive in Washington DC
