February of 2006, I saw mewithoutYou in the Kokomo Convention Center. They had wrapped up a tour a couple months before, had done some writing, and were driving to California to record their new record.
That night, they played some of songs from that record for the first time. And immediately, it was obvious that things would be different.
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As much as I’ve looked forward to this section of my collection, I’m sitting here with “January 1979” blaring at a complete loss of what to say about this record.
Do I talk about the broad scope of Aaron’s lyrics as he dissects theology, philosophy, and his own mental state in a yelping shout? Do I talk about how the rest of the band broke the doors off of punk music to create some of the greatest soundscapes put to tape? Do I talk about how over the last fourteen years, no record has meant more to me?
Because this record is all that and more. And if I didn’t have work to do today, I could write about this record all day.
In the summer of 2004, I found a copy of [A–>B] Life by mewithoutYou in the church camp bookstore for $7. I had seen the name trudging through the Tooth and Nail website (the things we used to do to find new music), and I was enchanted by Vasily Kafanov’s album art, so I took a chance on it.
On first listen, I hated it.
But following along with the lyric sheet, I realized that there might be a worthwhile experience if I could dig in deeper. So I listened again. And again. And a few more times.
And over a few listens, I became fully convinced of the genius of this bookish, experimental post-hardcore outfit.
Few groups have as varied a discography as mewithoutYou. They’ve forged a musical niche for themselves that is as diverse as it is consistent. Their records have run the gamut from blistering post-hardcore to intense indie rock to charming folk.
But looking back across eighteen years and seven albums, it can be easy to forget that mewithoutYou (whispers) sorta started out as a joke.
Ever since Alcest’s 2005 Le Secret, bandleader Neige’s fascination for shoegaze, dream pop, and post rock have been no secret. Throughout their career, they had fused elements of those sounds with traditional black metal to make something truly special.
But on 2014’s Shelter, they leaned heavy on the gentler side of their sonic palette.
For all of its simplicity, there’s something about punk that’s just slightly inaccessible.
If it keeps too close to the formula, it’s derivative. If it strays too far, or even if it has the right sonics but the wrong attitude, it’s a sell out.
Even if a band captures all of the fury and wrath of punk live, capturing that energy on record is as difficult capturing lightning in a jar.
But nobody must have told METZ.
Black metal has been undergoing a bit of a revolution in the last few years. Bands like Deafheaven, Wolves in the Throne Room, and Lantlôs have been augmenting their metal chops with elements of post rock and shoegaze. It’s a simple formula, but surprisingly effective.
But at the forefront of the “blackgaze” movement is a French group called Alcest, who wrote much of the blueprint on their breakthrough record Écailles de lune.
I was first introduced to Metavari as a post rock band (by a friend of mine who later joined the line up). They played the same intricate, introspective instrumental music as bands like Collection of Colonies of Bees, Do Make Say Think, and The Album Leaf.
And when my band was booked alongside them for analecta‘s album release show, that’s what we went in expecting. But somewhere along the road, bandleader Nate Utesch transitioned the project into a dreamy synth pop. Yet when paired with their post rock sensibilities, they created something incredibly special.
If you picked up Men At Work’s sophomore album Cargo looking for anything like their smash novelty hit “Down Under,” you’d be sorely disappointed.
Of course, the single wasn’t a great representation of Business As Usual either, but Cargo separates itself even further.
A hit single can be a huge boon for a new band. It can launch their career like a jet engine, putting them in front of a huge audience.
But it can also be an albatross, painting listeners’ perception of your work. Perhaps there’s no greater example of this curse than Men At Work’s “Down Under,” which hit number one in a handful of countries around the world—despite being a poor representation of their debut album.