Record #839: Least – Folding My Hands, Accepting Defeat (2021)

Somewhere around 2005, I decided that emo was dead.

I had spent my formative years in devout reverence to bands like Sunny Day Real Estate, Thursday, Appleseed Cast, and Further Seems Forever.  But when the wave shifted to bands like Fall Out Boy, Anberlin, and My Chemical Romance (who, even they will tell you, were not emo), I let my attention stray from the scene and moved on to things like indie, folk, and post rock.

The last decade or so has ushered in an honest-to-goodness emo renaissance so profound it’s not even fair to call it a revival anymore, with bands all over the world resurrecting the best parts of the halcyon emo scene of yore with stunning results.

And while Florida emo outfit least may bear some superficial resemblance to the guy-linered mallcore that put such a bad taste in my mouth in the first place (some have jokingly referred to them as “Transberlin”), if any of that stuff sounded like this, I never would have retired my girl jeans in the mid-oughts.

As a third-wave-reminiscent act, Folding My Hands, Accepting Defeat doesn’t offer up too many surprises. Guitars shift between intertwining melodies and chunky power chords as infectious hooks are crammed into the songs tighter than circus performers in a clown car. Every song is an invitation to shred your own vocal cords alongside vocalist Taylin Wills’ sky-high choruses.

Buried beneath the catchier-than-catchy melodies and cathartic energy though is a profound story of navigating gender dysphoria and transition, as well as the tricky landscape of interpersonal interactions through that process. It’s not exactly a universal experience, but Wills tells the story with enough pathos that it’s hard not to walk the journey with her. From the existential tension of “Window Dressing” to the body horror of “Tidal Wave Surgery,” they walk the listener through complicated and nuanced emotional landscapes like an expert tour guide pointing out landmarks and giving detailed histories.

As label mates on Friend Club Records, I can’t deny that I’ve had some jealousy at Taylin’s ability to write a classic emo song. After the tape release of this album, I had sort of written it off as capturing lightning in a bottle. Good for a four track EP, but good luck stretching that consistency out into a full length. But then, the vinyl edition dropped, the B-side expanded with five non-album singles. And wouldn’t you know it, they’re just as good. What kind of witchcraft is that? What sort of deal did she make with some pagan demigod to be able to perfectly capture everything that was right with the Third Wave emo scene without all of the cheap choruses and emotional manipulation? I don’t know, and Taylin probably isn’t telling, so instead I’ll just keep spinning this record and seething.