Pop punk in the Japandoids shouting-at-the-night vein, with more pop, more punk, and more existential thrashing. The Constant One's album full of songs for those believing that if we confront our mortality and smallness head on, all at once as a crowd, with riffs and swearing and huge all-shouted-together-shoutalong choruses, maybe then we can feel like we're safe, like everything's going to be ok, just for this one night. It's Garden State: The Album, with riffs in place of Shins and shouting in clubs in place of shouting in quarries, with everything played too fast to resist, too fast to think, whipping by like birthdays.
It just may be as purely and relentlessly as this particular strategy has ever been undertaken, and its fun in small doses, but too one-dimensional to work as an album: all climax, all catharsis, all the time for 11 songs and 40 minutes. Brute force cheer. For those who can handle it it might be the best album you've ever heard in your life 3/5
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