Explosive in their short but aching bursts of emotion, young in name but wise in experience and rich in acclaim from critics and audiences alike, journal is easily my favorite band this side of the US. I've been waiting so impatiently for this EP, and it does not disappoint in any sense of the word. This blog is a pretty tight turnaround just because I think I need to talk about this immediately, so if this blog sucks... sorry? Send music shits to [ fosterhildingmusic@gmail.com ] or DM me on Instagram.
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| photos courtesy of journal. |
From Cenöbite's slowly evolving punk to emo roots, to journal's aching conglomerate of blackened post-hardcore and screamo, Zander, Jack, and Love (and Brady) can never stand in one place. Even in comparison to their debut split, this dangles further from the ledge they'd leapt from in leaving Cenöbite behind. I'm going to just take a moment to congratulate Nyle from Dead Mothers Collective for his ridiculously good production on this. This is journal at their heaviest and fiercest and Nyle knew exactly how to accomplish that. Jack's guitars are massive and sharp--something I've been silently begging for since with arms crossed..., Love's bass is precise and his aching screams the perfect balance of roomy and dry, and Zander's drums sizzle just above the rest. But, let me talk about the music.
You're gonna need two guns to shoot me down, bud. was my immediate favorite from the moment I had seen it live and in various videos, and it god does it hold up in the studio. Beginning in a soft stringed duet between Love and Jack as whispers of dissonance claw at the edges, and then diving headfirst into distorted calamity, it's a perfect opener. Zander's clicking snare like the countdown on a bomb explodes as Jack's meaty and crushing guitar overtakes the whole track. The mathy hook forces you to bob your head in awkward contortions to Love's bubbling bass.
You're My Machine tones down for a moment, only to drip into a black metal homage to hate, Jack's vocals making their first appearance in raspy wisps of ache beneath his fluttering guitar. Zander themself never stand for staying in one place, either. They are always in constant motion and perfect precision, their snapping snare and driving rhythm giving way to impressively concise blast beats and ride bell-drenched refrains. It's a relief to actually be able to hear what Love is doing on bass: outlining every riff with a rhythmic pulse and carving dissonance into every phrase that may have been subtle without it.
Coming to Blows is the shortest track, just under two minutes, but is packed with every punch journal has in those precious seconds. Between the feedback-edged breaks, jolty power riffs and screaming distance beneath nostalgic clean guitar, it manages to be one the most diverse cuts from the project. Love's messy and sporadic vocals here are addicting, and the groans between verses and chorus are a potent outburst of pent emotion. The sample rules, too.
After Years of Lifting with My Back, re-recorded from their compilation version, still hits just as hard. "You don't believe in me / the way you believe in god" never fails to twist my spine. That first beat switch will always be one of my favorite moments from journal's discography. Zander's thudding drums that sit in between powerful accents and a fistful of drive give way to Jack's exasperated, drained guitar hoping for a moment of relief it never receives.
The Last Thing I Said to My Childhood Dog gives us a glimpse of that relief, but only a glimpse. We see a light at the end of the tunnel, outlined by Love's jumping bass, only for it to be crushed in journal fashion by pulling out every stop. Jack's guitar blasts between anxious builds and crushing releases, a constant battle for oneness (wink). A comparatively long, journeyed, and excellent closer.
With every release, journal proves to be one of, if not the most, exciting bands in the Arizona scene right now--always pushing forward and forever filling a hole that the inundation of emo and shoegaze has left for lovers of dark, weird music. They milk that cow that lives inside of us that not only puts us in pain and sorrow, but obsesses over it. journal is an addiction to despair and a marriage of hate, love, regret, and supreme sonic quality.
9.5/10
Stream journal.
-Foster
See journal at your renaissance alongside Jeromes Dream, Loma Prieta, Frail Body, Knumears, Olth, onewaymirror, Othiel, State Faults, Quiet Fear, and Màu on May 24th in Los Angeles.
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