Album number three from Portland, Oregon’s four-piece is an experimental, adventurous, artistic odyssey and their first since 2019.
Finally seeing the light of day after four years of crafting, Calm Down opens with the most recent single, Fist Fight, and it feels instantly like quite a unique blend. We get Bruce Springsteen/theCrates vibes at first, as well as a little bit of Rolling Boxcar International (whose album Buffalo we also reviewed a little while ago), but these are quickly complemented by music that recalls the sound of both Low and pre-Transatlantic Death Cab For Cutie. It’s epic-sounding, but also feels weirdly understated. There’s a touch of early Radiohead to some of the textures here, too. The songwriting is bold and brave – we particularly admire the space left between the elements, both in terms of lyrical placement and instrumental production. The last minute or so, the pace picks up, and it builds to a swirling, almost Explosions In The Sky-esque post-rock outro. Lyrically, the song is centred around what frontman Ezekiel J. Rudick describes as “a tender scene from the final days of my marriage to my wife of 16 years. Her deep, attending love for me. Wishing I would stop drinking. Wishing I would deal with my traumatic past in a way that would save us, even though I couldn’t/wouldn’t at the time.”
We reviewed the epic second track, Silver Bullet, previously. At the time, we said that we got hints of Trail Of Dead, QOTSA, and Nick Cave from the album’s lead single and, listening today, we’d also add Mogwai to that list. Altogether, this combination of elements and influences makes a potent blend. The instrumentation feels ragged and desperate – the guitars spiky and the bass booming whilst the drums hold the whole thing together purposefully.
The title track is up next and is the gentlest moment so far. It feels tender and evocative. Opening with the lines “you let your guard down on holidays / it doesn’t have to be this way” and ending with “just calm down (if you can)” – it seems to chronicle tense family interactions in moments that should be joyous. The music echoes this sentiment with a cautious approach to melody and structure – it feels almost trepidatious, like it’s walking on eggshells. Again, stylistically, the presence of wonderful slowcore legends Low is definitely felt.
Buyer’s Market begins with a slow build. A suspenseful swirl of sound that is eventually joined by Rudick’s rich baritone. Coming across a little bit like the more recent output from The National (think I Am Easy To Find onwards) or maybe even a little bit like modern Radiohead, it’s full of personality, charm and dread. It gets bigger and more abrasive as it goes on, and as it ends, it feels positively apocalyptic.
Pentacostal Worship Sounds is clearly about struggle. A struggle with a Church that one is born into and would possibly never have chosen. Struggling with managing one’s health – mental or otherwise. Struggling with anxiety. Struggling with self-worth. We could, of course, be way off the mark. But it feels like unease embodied. Rudick bares his soul (or, possibly, pontificates on that of another?) over instrumentation that feels urgent but also, and rather conversely, somewhat hesitant.
The influence of Radiohead pops up again on Swimming At The Prison and is the most pronounced it’s been so far. With a bassline that Colin Greenwood would be proud of, a guitar part that brother Jonny would love, and drums that positively scream Selway – it’s only really the vocal that feels like a discernible point of difference for at least the first half of the song. The cultural significance and influence of that band cannot be overstated. Little String keeps it going with an opening guitar part that could’ve come from In Rainbows. The sparseness of the arrangement is enchanting and admirable, and it works really well. The individual components have space to breathe and are all the more captivating for it. Eventually, it picks up a bit, and the sound gets fuller, but both parts of the song are equally endearing. A song about the collapse of the fallacy of the American family, when the song reaches its climax, it’s so epic it’s almost in peak-Kings Of Leon/Sex On Fire territory. It’s a far cry from where we began.
Spanaway has a gentle lilt as it begins, but in due course, it develops into a tidal wave of noise. Again, we’re reminded of Duluth’s greatest export. We can’t help but admire how unabashedly and earnestly the band wear their influences on their sleeves. The effects on the guitar in the verses in this one are delicious – almost dribble-inducing. They twang and reverberate and echo in such a way that you can’t help but be drawn in. And then, when the song picks up and gets heavier, the contrast between the two ensures the dirtier sounds hit you like a kick in the face. A special mention should be given to guest vocalist Kendall Sally, who provides some lovely backing vocals on this track.
Penultimate track Vail Cutoff is a haunting, cryptic song that paints a picture you feel you only want to look at through the small gaps between the fingers covering your face. Suggestions of religion, terror, manipulation and isolation mingle amongst the ethereal, pared-back instrumentation reminiscent of The Cure at the most gentle.
The final tune – Palmer ’68 – is absolutely heart-wrenching. Read the lyrics whilst you listen to it to see what we mean. Musically, it combines all the elements touched on across the album so far and rolls them into a wondrous new noise to accompany the lyrical sentimental overload. It concludes with a stuttering, protracted outro that feels like it could have segued into another epic instrumental, but alas, this is the end.
An exceptionally personal record (it was written when Rudick was questioning a lot of things about his identity – asking himself and his family difficult questions with complicated answers) – Calm Down is also full of wide-ranging universal truths. He explains, “I was figuring out how to process the toxicity of my family after realising their implications in childhood trauma and abuse.” ‘Calm Down’ is an attempt to bring peace to a restless, weary soul plagued by family, a failing marriage, and questions about our daily relationships. Whilst specific to his personal plight, we’re sure the sentiment will resonate with many of us. And if not, you should count yourself very lucky.
The album is available to pre-order via Rue Defense from the band’s Bandcamp now, but is limited to only 100 copies, so you’d best be quick!
Written by Kinda Grizzly
