To further showcase just how much I’ve been slacking on this blog, this record was sent to me at the same time as Jet Black’s wonderful L’Ere du Vide, which I got before Christmas.
Admittedly, it was a little hard for me to give this record the time it deserves, buried as it was under a deluge of Christmas records that I was spending more time with. But as I’ve listened to this bit of rambunctious alt-rock, I’ve fallen in love with it.
Within the first few moments you can tell what they were into as teenagers. There are shades of Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Dinosaur Jr., and other 90s heroes. And like those bands, Late Bloomer is undeniably a guitar band: the tones are thick and heavy, run through an arsenal of distortion pedals, fuzz, wahs, and phasers. Guitar solos are an intrinsic part of each song—a key element without which the composition would fall apart.
That said, it often seems like bands like this dump all their energy into writing great riffs and let the vocal side of things languish. As beloved as Dinosaur Jr. is, no one is writing home about J Mascis’ voice. But Late Bloomer is not afraid to write a great pop song. Even the noisiest track is filled to the brim with singalong hooks. This is especially true of “Mirror,” the feedback laden A-side closer that explodes with the anthemic cry of, “I’m not who I think I see in the mirror.” A few repeats in, you can’t help but sing along.
This intersection of guitar discipleship and popcraft is evident from the getgo. “Use Your Words” opens the record with a brilliant piece of slacker rock that perfectly displays what’s coming. It’s followed by the six-minute “Dr. Abernathy,” which opens delicately with a subdued bass riff and long-noted guitar leads, exploding with a blissful chorus. “Children” slows down for a bit, crashing morosely with ringing chords before kicking in with an uptempo number about nostalgia.
“Things Change” opens side B with lazy, vibey verses, breaking in the chorus when vocalist Neil Mauney screams the album’s central treatise: “things change, but I won’t change”—perhaps a fitting mantra for a band that so perfectly captures the musical moment of the 90s that they’re emulating. “Backpatches” features restrained verses that feel almost like a version of the Beatles singing pop punk, which are contrasted by the riffiest, shoutiest chorus on the record. The two-minute “Anethesia” [sic] takes their sonic palette back a day, harkening to the kind of stabby post punk employed by Gang of Four and Talking Heads. Album closer “Watching You” removes any ounce of restraint they might have shown for the previous eight tracks and goes full scorched earth. The drums crash on the cymbals with abandon, the guitars riff violently, while the vocals nearly reach hardcore levels of screaming.
In all, Things Change is the work of a band who is able to point clearly at their inspirations without sounding derivative. For all the Dinosaur Jr. and Nirvana influence here, they never come off sounding like a second rate imitation. Instead, it feels like a trumpet blast heralding a new generation of alt-rock guitar shredders. And I say let them come.