Dude what if my FACE was the ID?
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[3.88]
Megan Harrington: Songs where (even dubious) rock stars complain about how hard it is to be a successful rock star are always putrid. Jesse Rutherford doesn’t elaborate on what drives his anxiety and unhappiness. If he’s not going to soul search, why should I?
[3]
Iain Mew: They’ve got an expansive rock sound that surpasses their peers, this time featuring peals of guitar gathering like dark clouds and a sense of luxury that they wear lightly. They still don’t have a song that does much with it. Neither self-pity or “fuck you” are automatically appealing lyrical modes, and they don’t flesh either out enough.
[6]
Katherine St Asaph: Seethes, throbs, broods, all of which would do perfectly well by me if dude hadn’t first scuppered his credibility by wheedling tummy/honey/funny. It’s like Nine Inch Nails fronted by Winnie-the-Pooh.
[2]
Hazel Robinson: I didn’t live through nu-metal for this. “I won’t bite you, you suck anyway” is a good line, but this is in that Imagine Dragons angsty pompcore zone. Needs about 20,000 more guitars, a sense of pace and a boot up the arse.
[3]
David Sheffieck: The production’s immaculately undistinguished, the sort of thing I might play for someone if I needed to encapsulate every trend from 2000s American indie in a few minutes. The vocals, on the other hand, are so shrilly grating that I may have to return to Arcade Fire as my go-to demonstration of the form.
[2]
Will Adams: There’s something so dramatic about “Afraid” — the way the verses feign confidence, tossing weak jeers of “fuck you” and “you suck” only to fall into the chorus’ harrowing admission: “When I wake up, I’m afraid.” And thanks to the wide sonic field from Emile Haynie, deploying the same dusty drum loops and vocal shouts as Born to Die, that drama is all the more palpable.
[7]
Brad Shoup: They splice in modern hip-hop vibes about as well as Del Rey. They’re just awful at everything else.
[3]
Scott Mildenhall: It always feels unfair to consider an overlap between insecurity and narcissism, but given the lack of reasons for the immense paranoia here such thoughts arise. Don’t worry, Neighbourhood Man! It might be that one root to security is recognising your general lack of importance. Obviously you should always contemplate, because certainty is wrong, but your friends probably like you fine and probably aren’t so hung up on your acceptance. They probably even enjoy your music, a bit.
[5]