As
I am prone to telling almost anyone who will listen, Norma Jean has long been
one of my favorite bands, and since its announcement about a year ago, I had
been jittery with excitement in awaiting their latest release, Polar Similar. Despite this act’s fluid
nature as a musical collective, my faith in their ability to deliver music
that is both groundbreaking and yet true to the legacy has been unwavering. And
though there are no longer any founding members present in the band,
this fresh lineup succeeds in honoring the tradition that is Norma Jean while
producing what may be the best record yet released under the moniker.
Norma
Jean has perpetually been a heavy band, and Polar
Similar delivers fully on that promise. Guitarists Jeff Hickey and Philip
“Philly” Farris pull heady, ground-shaking chugs from their instruments,
playing predominantly in tunings as low as Drop-A or Drop-G. Bassist John
Finnegan thunders out angry bass notes that reverberate through the chest,
while Clayton “Goose” Holyoak bludgeons his drums towards a violent end. The
band is loud and brutally heavy, pulling as much metal from their instruments
as possible, smashing melody against mania without compromise.
Norma
Jean has loaded Polar Similar with
the same raging heaviness we expect from the band, yet never before has the
music been approached with such fearlessness. As lead singer Cory Brandan
states, the intention behind the record was “to do things [our] own way, and not care if anyone gives a shit about it,” and indeed there is no lack of
innovation on the record. Norma Jean explores completely new territories in
some pieces, using sampled recordings in “II. The People” and “A Thousand Years a Minute,” featuring a spoken-word piece in “Synthetic Sun,” and mixing in a
gentle grand piano coda for “1,000,000 Watts.” This experimentation even extends
through recording techniques, as apparently the band recorded guitar parts over an indoor pool at the studio as well as through the walls of the house they stayed in.
This
willingness to delve into new, unexplored areas is truly the drive behind Polar Similar, and one of the
most notable undertakings is Cory Brandan’s increasingly melodic singing.
Although the man can scream and growl like a rabid and furious jaguar, songs
like “Reaction” and the band’s tribute to the late great Lemmy,
“Everyone Talking Over Everyone Else,” show Cory concentrating his vocals in a
beautiful yet still edgy singing voice. This choice allows for him to play with
the emotion of the song, to let his anger seethe rather than shout. This also
creates a new dynamic in the music, so that when Brandan does scream, it shakes
the listener all the more by contrasting with the quiet that came before it.
Further
nuance and innovation are present in the lyrics, both in theme and in
presentation. Apparently Polar Similar
involves a loose concept, reflected by the numbering of four of the tracks that
break up the movement of the record. And while that concept seems rather vague
and broad, that massive scope is apparently the point; as Cory puts it, the
thematic pieces arose from a desire for “Polar Similar to really tell a story and be disconnected from us as people.”
The four titles seem to zoom in on one another; “I. The Planet” being a superficial
lump of us all; “II. The People” representing the individuals; and “III. The Nebula” an ode to the undefined, amorphous boundaries that separate us.
Thus, the final and explosive track, “IV. The Nexus,” references the connecting
thread that ties us all together, the uniting sameness at the heart of all of
us that shatters those boundaries.
The
creation of Polar Similar is a form of catharsis for the band, and for me, no tune defines this feeling better
than “Death is a Living Partner.” Amid some of the most intense, unrelenting
instrumentation of the record, Cory dissects at full volume his passage from
youth into adulthood. His wail of “The invincibility of our youth has just given way…to the inevitability of our death” starts with rage, yet settles
into a full, heavy understanding of his own mortality, before naming death as
his “living partner / a consummate, consummate one.” This pounding,
furious coda is the audial equivalent of gazing into the void, a gaze that
results in either peace or annihilation, that sucks me in every single time.
Undoubtedly,
Polar Similar is an album of
evolution, of maturation, and of experimentation. Norma Jean has poured every
piece of their hearts into this record, filling it front to back with unbridled
emotion and power. Whether exploring new frontiers or treading carefully across
old wounds, this band strides forward without fear or hesitation, turning that
journey into the brutal truth that lies at the heart of every song. Polar Similar is a record full of
surprises, but it leaves me without a trace of doubt that this band’s
trajectory leads only upwards.
Disclaimer: The
following piece is a super-in-depth look at one of my favorite records, and as
such, it is riddled with personal opinions and praise for said record. This
cannot be helped.
As I’ve
said myriad times before, I was hardly a fan of metal in high school. Punk and
ska dominated my clunky iPod’s memory, and what little crevices were left I
filled with the 90’s alternative I had only just begun to explore. It took me
years to find a true handhold in hardcore music, and most acts in that genre
were hard-pressed to get my attention before my later college years.
Except for
one.
To my
great fortune, engraved on that pivotal CD mix I received during my senior year
was “The End of All Things Will Be Televised” by Norma Jean, and from the very
first second, I completely understood
the song. The heavy slamming guitars soaked in overdrive, the tumbling time
signature changes, the gross amounts of dissonant noise—there was not an
element that failed to command my attention. Within the first ten seconds I had
cranked the volume on my stereo to near-deaf levels, not wanting to miss a
single nuance in the violently heavy bass line or the desperate screaming
vocals.
My
infatuation with this one tune led me to investigate the band, and within a few
weeks I had procured a used copy of that song’s parent album, Redeemer. Tossing the disc in my CD
player like a jonesing drug addict, I smashed the “play” button, and began a
love affair with Norma Jean that continues to thrive as I write this piece.
Years later, I have journeyed across this band’s entire catalog, but no other
NJ record has come close to surpassing my intense captivation with Redeemer.
The sound
of Redeemer is laden with dichotomy
and paradox at its very core, which is perhaps part of the reason why it
completely overwhelmed me. Norma Jean is heavy, and Redeemer is a hardcore record, yet the production and equalization
of that heaviness makes the album extremely accessible. The composition is
rooted in time signature changes, dissonant chords, and drop tunings, but the
arrangement of the songs with these tools feels wholly natural to the ear and
the spirit. Furthermore, despite the relatively high production value on the
record, every note feels as raw as a fresh wound and as meaningful as the first
time a heart is broken—according to bassist Jake Schultz, the band members were
encouraged to ignore mistakes and just “play it as hard as you can,”[1] so that no decibel of
energy was lost. Every second of Redeemer
is played with feeling and utter honesty, and that alone means everything.
There are
quite probably a million reasons why I love this record as a whole, but to
truly process my passion, I feel each track must be set aside to shine in its
own right. Every song is loaded with nuance and clever decision that should not
be ignored, as each is imperative to understanding the truth threaded
throughout Redeemer’s entire
being.
1.A Grand Scene for a Color Film
Kicking
off the record with a haphazard intro full of feedback and shouting, “A Grand
Scene for a Color Film” presents at full force the very essence of Norma Jean. Putman
demands “Sit down!” while Dan Davidson smashes his toms and the strings crash
against each other like hurricane waves. The tune alternates between 4/4 and
6/4 before descending into a pounding breakdown in 9/4, yet every change is so
smooth it is almost imperceptible. Putman’s exclamation of “the great universal
coma has arrived,” while curdling the blood, also introduces us to the
metaphysical thinking that is a primary theme on Redeemer.[2] “A Grand Scene for a Color
Film” quickly familiarizes the listener to the unrelenting energy and insanity
of this band, kicking off the festivities with what Sputnik Music calls “train
wreck inspired sound-offs [that set] the tone for the rest of the record.”[3]
2.Blueprints for Future Homes
The first
pseudo-single released on the album,[4] “Blueprints for Future
Homes” hardly lets the former track end before erupting outward at us. Driven
by a punchy guitar riff alternating between 7/8 and 4/4, Norma Jean creates a
musical catastrophe saturated with distortion, against which Putman laments the
loss of “a drowning generation.” Despite the grueling guitar chords, much of
the heaviness in this tune stems from Jake Schultz, whose overdriven bass
snarls like a rabid animal about to pounce.
“Blueprints
for Future Homes” is laden with awesome moments, but no part is more brilliant
than Putman’s lyrics. He sings and screams with a voice of terror and mourning,
his images of dishonesty and confusion coalescing into a photo of a suffering
world. Despite his visions of a reality where “hell is empty” and “the devils
are here,” Putman decides to act rather than mourn, vowing that he “will never
sleep” as long as his fellow man continues to drown.[5] Putman’s will to aid his
fellow man is heavy and meaningful, and the vicious performance of Norma Jean
across this song adds even more weight to this interesting and profound
idea.
3.A Small Spark vs. a Great Forest
Though
many of Norma Jean’s tunes alternate between whispers and shouts, no song on Redeemer utilizes dynamics quite as
effectively as “A Small Spark vs. a Great Forest.” Dan Davidson’s tumbling rim
shots and Jake Schultz’ rumbling lows quietly introduce the tune before the
band explodes into a tumultuous blaze. Throughout the entire song, the band
toys with dynamics, keeping the vocals loud while the instrumentation backs
off, before shoving the entire mess into the listener’s mind again. Between the
slow build of intensity and the flaring lyrics that encompass the imagery of a
sylvan landscape, “A Small Spark vs. a Great Forest” indeed takes on the sound
of a raging inferno intent on consuming all in its path.
4.A Temperamental Widower
Loaded
with energy, “A Temperamental Widower” teases us with a tame intro, but as soon
as Davidson finishes the four-count, Norma Jean bursts outward like a runaway
locomotive. The frenzied guitar riffs of Scottie Henry and Chris “Derr” Day
ring reminiscent of 80’s hardcore punk, yet their signature noisy melody style still
dominates the changes. The fast tempo and crashing drum beat provide a pulse so
frantic that even when the band arrives at the heaving breakdown and Putman
begins his chant of “You’ll put me in the grave,” not an iota of energy is
compromised.[6]
Angry and volatile, “A Temperamental Widower” takes the simplicity and speed of
punk and crams it against Norma Jean’s noisy hardcore, creating a tune that
tears headlong into our ears, screaming with abandon.
5.The End of All Things Will Be
Televised
My
initiation into the music of Norma Jean, “The End of All Things Will Be
Televised” begins with a breath, followed by crashing chugs so heavy, they
could be the footfalls of the Four Horsemen. This tune roils and rolls about
without mercy, shuffling between 4/4 and 6/4 before diving into a coda in 13/4.
Beneath every riff, the string section has also layered strata of feedback and
noise, filling every sonic space with the chaos that is this band’s signature
flair.
Despite
all the riotous instrumentation and brutality, Norma Jean keeps the song from
feeling like a pile of ideas by deftly overlapping and recalling earlier
sections, especially in the vocals. The song has multiple lyrical hooks,
including the chorus-like “embrace your comforting company,” the chant of “Captain,
the ship is sinking / Have mercy” in the coda, and of course, the shouts of
“the south is on fire” over the arduous breakdown.[7] In “The End of All Things
Will Be Televised,” Norma Jean carves their blend of syncopated hardcore to fit
into a package that is as catchy as it is epic, and with each listen I give it,
I remember exactly why I love this band.
6.Songs Sound Much Sadder
Co-written
with Underoath’s Timothy McTague,[8] “Songs Sound Much Sadder”
is perhaps the weakest point in Redeemer.
The pop-driven songwriting seems is underwhelming when juxtaposed against the
aggressive mania surrounding it, only made more confusing by the fact that the
verses lack a downbeat, leaving the tune with a somewhat messy foundation.
However, there
is certainly hope in the chorus that is both catchy and heavy, as well as the
outro that explodes like a landmine at the end of the tune. Putman’s got a few
killer lines too, like “We are smashed men, still moving” and “death with a
steady heartbeat,” certainly capturing the emotion the title promises.[9] Although lacking in some
respects, “Songs Sound Much Sadder” still captures the essence of this record
and so earns its place; plus, the music video is pretty kickass, featuring
surrealistic stop motion and a collagesque images reminiscent of the design of
the album’s liner notes.
7.The Longest Lasting Statement
To be
blunt, this tune is HEAVY. With gallons of feedback, a beat like pounding war
drums, and a juggernaut of a breakdown, “The Longest Lasting Statement” has
more impact than an atom bomb. The structure of the song is simple yet
interesting, beginning with a slow and grinding heaviness before jumping into a
bridge of slash beats and dissonance, and finally returning to the first
section, but in a slower, darker, and more pissed-off incarnation.
Contrasting
with the straightforward composition, however, is a remarkably complex lyrical
idea that consistently makes my mind spin. With “The Longest Lasting
Statement,” Putman subtly personifies those early Christians who decided to
take Jesus’ body after he was crucified, and portrays their struggles in a
contemporary framework. Furthermore, when taken in the context of the record’s
larger metaphysical theme, the Biblical idea becomes a metaphor for the many
generations of kids who grew up without a leader and who must now carry on
without one. This deep if not literary thinking gives the song a fascinating and
imaginative subtext that constantly prods my brain into the philosophical
realm.
8.Amnesty Please
Scottie
and Derr are the stars of this tune, mixing it up and down with chugs, slides,
melodies, palm mutes, and thrashing, showing us virtually all the ways a guitar
can make noise. There is a riotous feel to the intro which is only heightened
by Putman’s megaphone-filtered vocals. However, when the beat drops into a
remarkable groove under the lines “Burn this to ashes, ashes and framework,”
this song takes on a soul.[10] The band loads tons of
syncopated riffs in for variety, making “Amnesty Please” virtually danceable
without sacrificing an ounce of the fury that is their core. “Amnesty Please”
is a song that evolves from the first second of life to the last ringing note,
adding layer upon layer of nuance that defines this tune as one of my favorites
off Redeemer.
9.Like Swimming Circles
Similar to
“A Small Spark,” “Like Swimming Circles” is another song from Redeemer that gives voice to a disaster,
albeit this time at sea. Dan Davidson’s pounding and astounding beat in 6/4 is
reminiscent of crashing waves (his drums were apparently recorded in live takes
to capture his intensity)[11], while the driving guitar
and bass create the impression of a maelstrom raging overhead. Putman utilizes
much water imagery in the song, painting in our subconscious a study in the
chaotic movements of water, while the swirling section under the line “Don’t
you dare insinuate me” truly sounds like the score to a typhoon.[12] If the ship is sinking in
“The End of all Things,” it is the livid ocean possessing every note of “Like
Swimming Circles” that takes it down and swallows it whole.
10.Cemetery
Like a Stage
My
absolute favorite from Redeemer,
“Cemetery Like a Stage” holds in its voice more despair than a mourning mother
who has lost her child. Every second of this song is imbued with pure,
unadulterated sadness, every note painted with the deepest grays and blues. The
main riff in 7/8 writhes in the throes of desolation, while the chorus and
bridge wallow in negative space. Jake’s howling bass owns the spotlight in this
song, setting up an awesomely awful progression for the chorus and introducing
a bit of tremolo in the funereal bridge. The sounds he captures with his
instrument in “Cemetery Like a Stage” are the primary influence on my own bass
tones, simultaneously heavy, graceful, dolorous, and irate.
One of my
favorite aspects of this tune is how seamlessly interconnected the many
elements feel. Putman’s rhythmic screaming is locked to the 7/8 groove in the
verse, and the pure rage in the chord progression is an impeccable backdrop to
his wailing declaration: “I joined the avalanche just to feel alive.”
Similarly, Norma Jean is nowhere tighter than in this song’s chorus; the
moaning lines “We’re broken here / We’re ruined here” are the perfect echoes to
the biting guitar progression.[13] In “Cemetery Like a
Stage,” there is no noise that is not authentic, because Norma Jean unloads
every ounce of their being into it, making it impossible for me to do anything
but respond in kind.
11.No
Passenger : No Parasite
Because of
its mostly-instrumental nature and simplistic shape, “No Passenger : No
Parasite” is a gentle but emotional coda to a record that is simultaneously
manic and depressed. The string section provides a strolling and panoramic
environment while the syncopated and polyrhythmic drum intro evolves over the
course of the song, taking on a life of its own and pushing the composition
towards an emotive climax. Putman’s sparse lyrical contribution allows his
voice to become more of an instrument, tingeing the atmosphere of the tune in a
manner rarely seen outside of jazz. Despite its relatively uncomplicated
existence, Norma Jean, as usual, gives to this tune everything they have,
summing up their entire record in the last few seconds by charging headlong to
the very end.
Fans of
the genre might argue that Redeemer
is fairly tame as far as hardcore goes, especially with its layered Christian
undertones and intermixing of clean vocals. However, with a close listen, I
feel there is nothing really tame about this record; in fact, quite the
opposite. There is an entire universe of chaos, dissonance, and brutality
engraved on this disc, especially in the instrumentation, but it is the
tasteful and intelligent presentation that makes that noise so enjoyable and
accessible. Norma Jean spends no time preaching, but rather places a layer of
Christian subtext in their music, which the listener can choose to ignore or
indulge. Similarly, the choices to leave the low end to the bass guitar and
incorporate distinguishable melodies into the hard vocals gives a fresh,
vibrant take on the tropes of hardcore while keeping them at a level digestible
for the uninitiated.
One of the
reasons this record immediately grabbed me was because of how easy it was to
like the sound of Norma Jean. While the dressing and presentation of the music
is versatile and attractive, the band still sounds goddamn vicious as they
pummel their instruments. Each member of Norma Jean really tears every scrap of
sanity from themselves in attempting to make this record, and leaves not a
speck of their being out. In the words of Daniel Davidson, producer Ross
Robinson “encouraged us to get back to the real reason why we got into music…He
told us to write this record ‘like it’s your first record and like it’s your
last record. Give it all you’ve got.’”[14] Every time I spin this
record, it feels like the end of the world, because Norma Jean sculpted their
music to sound like a true apocalypse.
Within all
the heavy and the raw and the chaos that revolves around Redeemer, the music contained on this disc is honest and
passionate, and that more than anything is what pulls me back to it every
single time. Every noisy and pandemonious note from Norma Jean sounds both
unique and heartfelt, as if it holds the secret meaning of life within. The
urgency with which these five musicians play inspires me to throw myself at
each endeavor in the same way they threw themselves into making this record,
and so when I need to give myself a shove, you can be sure that Redeemer will be sounding off behind
me.
Note: Dear friends, at this time I am unable to latch videos of the songs I refer to below. Until such a time that I am able to place those tunes in this article, please accept the below live clip and the official video for "If You Got It at Five, You Got It at Fifty" as an apology and a teaser. And pick up this record. It's filthy.
I would argue that I’m a patient person, and rarely the type to
let anticipation dominate my mindset. However, when I heard at the beginning of
the year that Norma Jean was working on a new album, I had no idea how to
contain myself during the interminable wait. After devouring their previous
catalogue over the past two years, Norma Jean quickly rocketed into my list of
favorite bands, and the thought of new music to meet my fix was one that never
left my head. And since it’s arrival at my doorstep three months ago, Wrongdoers has
remained in heavy rotation, for the boys of Norma Jean are never ones to
disappoint.
If there is one sound Norma Jean sought to capture with this
release, it is the ear-pounding beat of adrenaline. Jeff Hickey and Chris Day
match licks and chugs on guitar, through which the thumping bass work of John
Finnegan demands to be heard. Clayton “Goose” Holyoak absolutely slaughters on
his drums, ranging his approach from speed-metal thrashing to laying down beats
worthy of a hip-hop record. His eclectic but rock-solid drumming feeds the
focus of the instrumentation on creating serious, swaying grooves, something
relatively unheard of from this act. But despite featuring three completely new
members in the lineup, Wrongdoers lacks not at all for Norma Jean’s
signature smashing heaviness, and Goose would argue this is perhaps the band’s
most “pissed off” record to date[1].
The brutality and chaos that defines this band’s sound is a heavy presence,
with every tune featuring disgustingly low tunings and no small amount of
screeching feedback. The insanity and truth inherent in the mess of this
group’s music shines throughout—indeed, the middle of “Neck in the Hemp”
features a complete collapse of the song before an explosive return, which
drives me wild every time. The sonic onslaught recorded on this record pure and
honest in every way, and as always, super goddamn heavy.
With Wrongdoers, it is wholly apparent that Norma
Jean has spent some real time cultivating a sound so dynamic, it simultaneously
encapsulates the sonic journeys of previous albums while maintaining an
extremely distinct flavor of its own. After completing recording, Cory Brandan remarked
on the new record that “we really pushed ourselves to do something really
different while expanding on what we’ve done in the past.”[2]
And while I always hate to place an album against its predecessors, with this one,
the band deftly recalls old musical themes—or as Brandan calls it, “old school
classic Norma Jean nastiness”[3]—and
takes them farther than they had previously gone. For instance, “Hive Minds,”
the record’s opener, features a long instrumental space reminiscent of Bless
the Martyr & Kiss the Child, while “If You Got It at Five, You Got It
at Fifty,” sounds like a b-side from the Redeemer days. Despite
this, Wrongdoers maintains itself as the continued evolution
of the band’s pounding voice. It is as soaked in the melodic melodies of later
releases as it is driven by atonal, grindcore guitar that hasn’t really been
heard since O’ God, the Aftermath. Brandan’s blatant juxtaposition
of frank, beautiful vocals and guttural screams break ground that Norma Jean
has only tasted previously, and the decision to focus the majority of the
instrumentation in stomachable time signatures furthers this band’s foray into
the melodic sector of hardcore, without sacrificing the fearsome voice for
which they have always been known.
One of the most sonically interesting tunes from this
record is the album’s closer, “Sun Dies, Blood Moon.” Clocking in at a little
over fourteen minutes, it is an epic that effectively sums up the many themes
and choices evident on Wrongdoers. Inherent in the tune are
multiple references to the band’s previous work: the song is separated into two
suites, a callback to O’ God, the Aftermath’s closer
“Scientifiction,” and both the instrumental space and sheer length of the tune
are highly reminiscent of the band’s first release. However, the definition in
“Sun Dies, Blood Moon” obviously flows from the span of new sounds and
approaches built into it. Opening with a clean guitar riff (practically a Norma
Jean first), the heavy palm mutes and simmering vocals seem to be an apparent
homage to Tool, and the small orchestra dominating the beginning of the second
suite speaks to this band’s commitment to making interesting and meaningful
music that is beyond themselves. Though the tune’s focus is melody from all
angles, yet it lacks nothing of the grinding, heavy foundation this band has
built itself upon, leaving “Sun Dies, Blood Moon” as a perfect amalgamation of
everything that originally hooked me into this band and everything that keeps
me craving more.
Check out this live amalgamation of "Sun Dies, Blood Moon" and "Disconnecktie"
Also groundbreaking for Norma Jean is Brandan’s performance,
both vocally and lyrically. While the past couple of records have given him a taste
of a singing voice, it is on Wrongdoers
that he truly discovers how much that voice is worth. The album is an even mix
between clean, sung melodies and heavy screams, and Brandan functions quite
well in both realms, giving each style its due over the progression of their
tunes. “Sword in Mouth, Fire Eyes” is
dominated by Brandan’s powerful and evocative melody, before transitioning into
the brutal thrash-punk yells of “The Lash Whistled like a Singing Wind.” Accompanying
the dynamo vocals are lyrics that, while not Brandan’s best, are consistently
interesting and stuffed with raw emotion. Many of his phrases are
straightforward, yet in some songs his word choices explode with originality,
such as with the phrase “Unhand the knife drawer” in “Wrongdoers,”[4]
while in others, he takes a cliché image completely reworks it, as in “Sword in
Mouth, Fire Eyes:” “We calmly weigh our thoughts before we know them / Careful
not to break our only scale.”[5]
Many of these lines seem to focus angst and anger against the music industry,
but Brandan’s images and allusions make this bloody pulp of a topic seem like a
fresh corpse ready for beating—his comparison of a record company to giant man-eating
plants through the title “Triffids” is brilliant in its brutal honesty.
Although the lyrical content of Wrongdoers may be the weakest part of a strong record, Brandan and
the rest of the band hit a grand slam in one particular tune. “Hive Minds,” the
apocalyptic opener to the record, features music and verse that flow like pure
poetry, painting an image of a world slowly being dominated by creeping vines. The
tunes lyrics are the most solid on the record, as Brandan implores his listener
to see the destruction slowly swallowing the world around him. His desperate
vocals seem to writhe with energy, which is easily captured in his original
approach to his lyrics. As in other tunes, he re-imagines a cliché into
something light years better with his line: “Gravity may not be a law / but all
things will find ground.” Furthermore, many of Brandan’s phrases, such as
“change hungry hands” and “a sunset care ride with a bottle of meds” create
such powerful images that they seem more worthy of a poem than a song, but his
deathly screams assert that they belong to this saga alone. Mix that with a
drawling instrumental bridge and a thunderous performance from all ends
(especially Goose’s landmine drumming), and you have a monumental opener in “Hive
Minds,” a sure sign that the end is indeed here, even if no one saw it coming.
"If You Got It at Five, You Got It at Fifty"
With Wrongdoers,
Norma Jean took a ton of risks. Between new sounds and an upheaval in the line-up,
this record could be seen as hardly worth the title of a true release from this
band. But spin this record one time and any doubt that what your hearing is
Norma Jean will be erased. With this record, the band begins a move into a new
era of music, one that Brandan calls “easily the most energetic.”[6]Wrongdoers is as brutal and honest as
it gets from this group—it’s smart, it’s scary, it’s heavy, and it rocks. Embedded
on this record is the simple truth of what a hard-working and fun-loving band
is capable of, and if you haven’t picked it up yet, you are truly missing out.
