Colourless, the new single by Sydney-based band Overbreak, follows almost every single classic trope that late 2000s emo songs abided by back in the day, but still somehow emerges as a fresh sound that blends genuine angst with a catchiness that resembles that of songs by Against Me! or, to reference a slightly more classic emo band, songs off of The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance like Dead! or Mama.
The song kicks into gear with a syrupy-slow-tempo guitar that is obviously creeping towards that point where there’s a measured rise in tempo as the percussion joins the ensemble. And as the zigzaggy guitar riff that ducks in and out from between the blank spaces left by the vocals, you realize that the instrumentation is a recalcitrant counterpart for the obvious turmoil of the words, expertly dodging the landing of each blow from lyrics like, “I fear I’ve lost it all,” and the seminal “I find it hard to see in this colourless room,” by sidestepping them left and right and peaking and plummeting at just the right intervals to sound like it is making fun of how self-serious the words are being. Classic emo trope one: always make the music sound spirited enough that it deprecates the majority of the bite of the words. That makes the struggle that is being verbalized sound anthemic instead of unoriginal. And Overbreak does that here perfectly, mostly with the aid of the piquant, playful rhythm guitar sound that is lanced throughout the chorus and despite the song being called ‘Colourless,’ sonically, it is splattered with all kinds of color because of the guitars especially. Another case of the angst being undermined by the music, which is just a self-effacing way of being self-conscious on the part of the band. Something that is quite relatable when it comes to having big, dramatic emotions like being left behind or stuck in a kind of inescapable darkness.
In the chorus, however, the chords keep changing from major to minor, which sobers you up, as a subtle nod to the fact that the plea for help and the lamentation in general are genuine, which tugs at the place in your soul that identifies with the sentiment. Classic emo trope two: be candid, genuine, and messy at the risk of sounding lofty and ridiculous because being unable to contain big emotions without sounding like a teenager is relatable. And Overbreak does that here quite successfully since, as you listen to the chorus, you feel an irresistible pull towards the way he sings his woes: genuineness – as it makes what is being said relatable – leads to catchiness, so now you are singing along.
Then comes the guitar solo that really ties the whole song together. Nothing short of being called zingy, the solo rejuvenates the song like a shot of espresso as it starts out modest and low and then builds to a cocky, twisty, more complicated sound that amps you up for that last chorus that is bound to follow along with a tempered trail-off at the end of its flourish. Classic emo trope three: hype that last chorus up. It is the last chance to make everybody sing along. And Overbreak does that here fantastically with the clever, calculated, and economic use of that guitar solo. (Nobody likes a solo that overstays its welcome.)
And last but certainly, that last chorus hits the spot as it arrives on the dot. But what is even more satisfying is what comes after: the closing guitar riffs that battle it out to the death. Or to the end of the song. There is a time change. The drums force out the last indications of the beat as the guitars wring out the last remnants of the zippiness they carried throughout the song. And the lyrics ring true now that the song is over, “And when I close my eyes, I’m coming back too soon.” Classic emo trope four: make the silence after the song feel wrong. Always leave them wanting more. And Overbreak definitely does that here.
Written by Leo August
