Parkinglot - At Least I'm Trying

There’s a strange, cathartic celebration in expressing sadness through music. If it’s done right, the emotion in a song is as real as the moment it was written; yet in sharing that sadness with the world, whether through a record or a live show, it becomes a universal event. The burden becomes just a little easier to bear, because band and listener become one in the experience.

Over the past few months, I’ve had the privilege of sharing in that odyssey with CT’s own Parkinglot, both at live shows and through their debut record At Least I’m Trying. These three punks throw everything they have into music, beating their instruments into splinters by the end of each song. Guitars squeal with feedback against a crunchy overdriven bass, and the drums smash beneath vocals that range from a resigned sigh to furious yells. Tunes like “Song for My Mind and Other Things I’ve Recently Lost” or “984 Miles” barrel at you like freight trains: relentless, and almost frightening in how powerful they are. 

At Least I’m Trying is an undeniably raw record, a factor that not only lends to its energy, but reflects the intensity that Parkinglot is known for. “Conversations” and “Den 2” feature gentle sections of quiet repose, yet there is always an underlying urgency that quickly rises to the surface. These tunes are brutally honest in their presentation, and Parkinglot’s use of dynamics in their compositions, starting small blazes that rapidly grow into infernos, forces the ear and the heart to catch up, to get on the level or get left behind. 

 

Much of Parkinglot’s music revolves around making the best of a dire situation, and the lyrics on At Least I’m Trying scream of struggle, desperation, and disconnection. There is zero pretense in the vocals—every shout is vicious, every word is honest almost to a fault. Lines like “Thank you for showing me how not to grow up to be / miserable and angry and hateful and spiteful and scotch-drunk” present the facts of a very real struggle without a hint of complaint or embellishment. 

Yet through all the pain that abounds in this album’s words, wielding sentiments often nearing suicidal, there is no question of giving up or succumbing to the darkness. Parkinglot takes their suffering and adheres it to catchy, gritty, fun-as-hell punk music, defying their despair and turning it into a celebration of life. 

At Least I’m Trying is easily one of the saddest records I’ve ever heard, but Parkinglot does not let that sadness define them. There is hope and fervor and a small but ever-growing sense of self-worth embedded in every crash cymbal or overdriven bassline. Each song bursts like a light in darkness, growing brighter and revealing more with each flash. Parkinglot proves with At Least I’m Trying that there is a future beyond struggle, and for these three musicians, it’s a goddamn bright one. 

My top track: “Vegetables”

You can find more from Parkinglot, including upcoming live shows and news, on Facebook. Then grab your own copy of At Least I’m Trying on their Bandcamp page, out via Destroy All Music.