Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Streetlight Manifesto - Somewhere in the Between


If there is a soundtrack to my turning eighteen, it would have to be Streetlight Manifesto’s Somewhere in the Between. Streetlight’s extremely technical yet thoroughly delicious brand of ska-folk-punk was the dominant sound of my last year of high school. The complex, multifaceted, and most of all catchy compositions inspired me to shoot beyond power chord progressions and straightforward lyrics in my own music, sensibilities that continue to inform my own writing.

Truly, Somewhere in the Between was a pivotal listen for me in those days. And yet, with my eventual distancing from ska, a solid five years had passed since I had actually listened to it front to back. So when I shoved the scratched, burned copy into my car’s CD player a month ago, I felt a twinge of fear that perhaps I wouldn’t really like it, or even understand it, anymore. Yet as the explosive first notes of “We Will Fall Together” pealed through my speakers, my anxieties dropped to the floor as the glory that is Streetlight washed over me.

Though they try their hardest to come off as uncaring goofballs, Streetlight Manifesto is an act unfamiliar with the term “good enough,” instead whittling down each composition until it as cerebral as it is beautiful. These seven men load each song with nuance, the rhythm section peppering in syncopated hits and massive dynamic shifts until every song plays like a symphony. The four-piece horn section furthers this by taking lead singer Tomas Kalnoky’s hummed suggestions and turning them into intense collages of harmony and counterpoint. On top of all this musical majesty, every member of the band contributes to the singing in some way, taking the ska cliché of gang vocals and elevating it to the echelon of a punk choir.

The band’s technical approach alone on Somewhere in the Between is enough to get the head spinning, but Streetlight also chooses to explore a plethora of sound palates. Refusing to be labeled as simply ska, they instead give the listener a veritable buffet of musical flavors: Pete McCullough’s running bass lines suggest a heavy jazz influence, while Kalnoky’s raking guitar chords simultaneously draw from punk and Middle-Eastern folk. The horn section’s melodic structures go even farther, calling to mind the music of gypsies in “We Will Fall Together” or the early days of big band with “The Blonde Lead the Blind.” As Kalnoky puts it, he wanted Somewhere in the Between to breathe with “a world influence,” and with seven members exploring seven different musical backgrounds, they easily succeed in unearthing a whole new continent of sound. 

One of the best examples of this married complexity and catchiness on Somewhere in the Between is the thunderous “Would You Be Impressed?” Sporting a Spanish influence in the composition, Streetlight races like a bull through each verse. Chris Thatcher’s snare drum blasts as he holds the insistently insane rhythm at a speed that would spell death for a less-cohesive band. The song eschews a traditional chorus, opting instead to end each verse with the punctually shouted line “It’s not my fault,” intermingled with ever-varying horn arrangements that explode in juxtaposition with the vocals. Virtually no part of the song features a true repeat, the band instead taking each idea and turning it on its head the next time it occurs, suggesting continuity while continually evolving. “Would You Be Impressed?” flaunts every aspect of Streetlight worth acknowledging, an intricate masterpiece that truly blooms in the ear.   


The instrumentation on Somewhere in the Between received borderline obsessive attention in its creation, and the lyrics are no different. As his break-neck singing style demands, Tomas Kalnoky fills each song with tons of lyrics, but not a single word seems facetious or accidental. He wields both repetition and alliteration with the skill of a famed poet, such as in the vehement line “So fuck the flocks of sheep that keep amassing masses / asses being led so far astray.” Additionally, his continuous use of small, gripping refrains, such as “mercy, mercy, mercy me” in “Watch It Crash,” create a constant stream of moments for his listeners to latch onto, so that no matter how long or complex the tune, some part is guaranteed to seize both attention and heart. And even when his lines appear to make no sense—“Little Miss Dismiss cannot miss like a detuned radio”—well, damn, they sure are fun to sing.

Each song on Somewhere in the Between is as distinguished as a snowflake, yet some Kalnoky also manages to tie them all together thematically. A major motif in his writing involves man’s destiny to fail: “Forty Days” references the Fall of Man with the line “What a way to begin, we inherit sin,” while “Down, Down, Down to Mephisto’s Café” calls on the futility of man’s battle against his nature: “No matter what we do we’ll be wrong.” Another prevalent image is that of a sinking ship, referenced in both the last two tracks on the record as well as visually in the music video for “We Will Fall Together.”

With his effective synthesis of flourish, depth, and honesty, Tomas Kalnoky proves himself to be a powerful writer, and no song says it better than the album’s opus “The Receiving End of it All.” Above a maelstrom of heady instrumentation and perhaps the best breakdown ever written, Kalnoky tears through a tale of lost connection, reminding his dear “Marigold” that “though sour grapes will turn to wine, it’s all just vinegar with time.” He flirts with the image of an innocent romance fading away with the lines “We used to be in love (my love!) but now we’re just in like,” before finally placing the blame on himself: “When you needed someone most, I wasn’t there, I wasn’t even…” The entire troupe that is Streetlight pours their broken hearts into the performance of “The Receiving End of it All,” backing Kalnoky’s hectic, earnest tale with their own sincerity to create a song that to this day gives me chills with each listen.

After returning to this record like a prodigal son, I can’t believe how silly I was to think it would mean anything less to me. Somewhere in the Between is a phenomenal album, ten intensely crafted songs that awaken mind and body with their energy and intelligence. And even now, after a month of non-stop spinning, I am still discovering little moments of nuance or integrity, moments I had missed again and again in my younger years. Somewhere in the Between remains a seminal record for me; I did not have to grow to love it, and with the way it continually proves its worth and wonder, that will never change.  
Tunes to Check Out:
1) The Receiving End of it All

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Song Spotlight: "Blue Boy" by Texas is the Reason

My musical fascination for the last year and a half has been post-hardcore and emo from the 90’s. Since falling in love with the music of At the Drive-In, I have continued backwards through the rabbit hole to find the bands they toured with, or the bands that share their influences. I’ve encountered many monster acts on this journey, becoming caught up in single songs or whole albums of melodic madness. But for the past year, one song in particular keeps rising to the top of my queue, a truly beauteous composition: “Blue Boy” by Texas is the Reason.



Two tenuous guitars open this tune, Garrett Klahn’s simple melody mixing with Norman Brannon’s wavering chords. The rest of the band sidles in behind the strings, until Texas is the Reason explodes into the song proper, layering distortion and wailing bends over the chaos. There is a subtle heaviness to the song, hiding in the drop tuning and Chris Daly’s quick drum fills, that colors the initial feeling of melancholy into something darker. Amid this prismatic instrumentation, Klahn begs for a chance to prove himself to a distant lover, struggling to keep her near with the line “maybe with you on my side / I’ll be able to reach the sky.”

“Blue Boy” is one of those tunes that grip me right at the beginning, leading me like a small child through an emotional journey. The lilting and tilting intro is laden with trepidation, not unlike the feeling buried in the stomach before talking to a crush. Yet the subsequent explosion of overdrive, crash cymbals, and earnest vocals suggests a newfound confidence, a statement of intent and purpose. Where once there was only nervous energy, suddenly the band finds a conviction, a belief in itself that is perfectly summed in the refrain “to me, this is for real.”



This new and confident identity is not just a feeling I’m imposing on the song, but actually a representation of the band members themselves during this time period. While initially released on a split EP with The Promise Ring, “Blue Boy” was one of a few new songs written for Texas’ next full-length, one intended to be their major label debut. As Norman Brannon states, these songs show the band finally “[figuring] out what Texas is the Reason sounded like.” The band truly felt that these songs “actually were” Texas is the Reason, showing their sound evolving into one both original and progressive, and thus Garrett’s exclamation in the coda of “you finally found me” suddenly seems far more personal.

That evolution from boys in a band to men making music is what lies at the heart of “Blue Boy.” The “reactionary spirit” inherent in each vibrating string, each thumping drum hit—that is the goal of music, to capture the human journey in a succession of notes. As Texas is the Reason’s only true sophomore release (the other two songs written at the time were only recently recorded), “Blue Boy” is the notch carved into the doorframe of this band’s house, the only true testament to that moment in their existence.


To lead singer Garrett Klahn, “Blue Boy” is a song that “pinpoints exactly where [Texas is the Reason] were and where we were maybe going.” For me, it testifies to the strength of soul-searching in a band, in discovering what truly makes up the experience and putting it out in as faithful and honest a version as possible. Those first few notes of “Blue Boy” strike my heart with truth and excitement like few other songs can, a feeling of which I could never grow sick. They are notes laden with uncut integrity and pure potential, and I have no doubt they will ever get to me.