For an artist, growth is a funny thing.
On the one hand, no one wants to hear the same record released year after year. On the other, what happens when an artist grows into something unrecognizable?
Such is the plague of pop-punk demigods The Ataris’ fifth full-length, which was such a sharp left turn that the Wikipedia page says that “the group abandoned the pop-punk label.”
And while this record might seem like a huge curveball to anyone looking for So Long Astoria, Pt. 2, the sonic legacy of this record can be traced all the way back to their earliest records.
The Ataris built their name (quite literally) on adolescent nostalgia and pop culture, their lyrics filled with references to video games and Kevin Smith movies. And to the chagrin of many longtime fans, all of that is absent here.
But beneath all of that juvenile playfulness, there was always buried a sophisticated emotional palette. Blue Skies, Broken Hearts spent plenty of time lamenting the distance between himself and the daughter he fathered to an ex. Barring a couple exceptionally goofy tracks, End Is Forever is one of the darkest and emotionally heavy records in the punk canon—some tracks are more emo than certain emo heroes ever got (compare “Fast Times At Ridgemont High” to anything by The Promise Ring, for instance).
And while they’ve always had a difficult time balancing the two (just look at their very uneven major label debut So Long Astoria), on Welcome The Night they drop their less serious side and embrace the more earnest side of their sound.
And yeah, it is a bit jarring. Much of the discussion around this record is whether or not this should have been released under the Ataris moniker at all. Frontman and songwriter Kris Roe now leads a seven piece band, none of whom played on a previous Ataris record. The closest they get to the fist pumping pop punk anthems they built their reputation on is “The Cheyenne Line,” which mourns society’s loss of personal honesty in favor of intoxication—hardly a feel-good singalong.
The record’s sonic center is more minor keyed, slower, and densely arranged. Kris often sings an octave lower than his usual range-topping, half-shouted melodies. Guitars are more often coated in reverb than run through distortion (and I don’t think there are any palm mutes). Pianos and synthesizers are commonplace. And because of all of this experimentation, I think this might be my favorite Ataris record. Or at least it’s the one that I find the most musically rewarding these days.
“Not Capable Of Love” kicks off the record with a gut punch, a fuzzy guitar line accompanying Kris’s declaration that he’s not who he was at 21 (an appropriate admission for a pop punk frontman who had just turned 30). “Cardiff-By-the-Sea” is a pure emo track, complete with a melody reminiscent of Sunny Day Real Estate. Anyone expecting another pop punk record has already turned it off by the time the fourth, atmospheric track “Secret Handshakes” comes around to suggest that Kris has been listening to more shoegaze than he’s been letting on.
Overall, the shift in sonic template is incredibly rewarding, and makes for some of their best songs. “We All Become Like Smoke” follows a Radiohead-like guitar arpeggio that explodes into a cathartic, anthem ready chorus. “Far From the Last Call” pairs a bouncing electric piano with jangling acoustic guitars. “A Soundtrack For This Rainy Morning” employs huge walls of guitar noise and buckets of reverb.
But for its overdriven electric piano, string section, and six-minute running time, closer “Act Five, Scene Four: And So It Ends Like It Begins” feels like a classic Ataris song, Kris weaving pictures of the grand romance he wishes he could have. You almost forget that there haven’t been any palm muted power chords or movie samples.
This isn’t a perfect record: not every punch lands, and Roe often reaches for emotional heights that he’s unable to grasp. But it hits far more than it misses. And if it weren’t for the internal struggles that led them to leave Columbia Records before this was released, I can’t help but imagine what could have happened if this album landed with the right audience—instead of the aging pop punk kids holding onto their misspent youth, because Kris sure isn’t.
On a more personal note, I did love this record when it first came out. I bought this record in 2008, replacing my worn out CD copy. But a few years later, in a moment of weakness, sold it for $7 to a used shop. It sat on the shelf for years for $11, and I always toyed with the idea of reclaiming it. The day I decided to go for it, it was gone.