Louder Now, the third album by Amityville, New York emo kids Taking Back Sunday, isn’t really “louder now.” In fact, I’m tempted to say that it might actually be more sugary than their first two albums – it’s riddled with hints of pleasing a younger, more pop-driven audience. Not that Taking Back Sunday’s earlier releases were shrouded with cryptic, brooding, off-center hymns, but there was a sense of originality and that genuine feel I got when I heard those older songs that just doesn’t strike much of a chord when I listen to Louder Now. It’s hard to define what their drive and intentions were when developing the new album; the songs vary from the TBS insignia of rageful, synchronized ballads to songs that I couldn’t even discern as theirs – at some points hipsterish, even feminine jigs.
Although the album misses the mark that previous material hit with great precision, frontman Adam Lazzara’s and copilot Fred Mascherino’s voices continue to stun, with pure, clear vocals that are perfectly manicured to maneuver side by side. Lazzara’s voice strikes higher notes in a number of the songs that tug with a delicate crawl and can turn instantly into strong power presses, both of which are hypnotic. The band is still able to unleash a flood of rage with a great beat and clear vocals, which won them so much acclaim early on. But the lyrics are juvenile, at some points even ridiculous, and the collaborative flow of the songs is muddled – does TBS want to attract younger listeners? Are they trying to experiment, and it just ends up sounding incredibly manufactured and geared to 15-year-olds everywhere? No matter their intention, the band’s latest effort sadly sounds like they’re straying from their roots.
The first single and the best song is “MakeDamnSure,” which exhibits the aforementioned vocalists’ ability to manipulate dismal lyrics into something moving, with great expression and variability. The song rises in intensity and caps with the chorus. As a classic TBS song does, it drives you to turn it up and rip it out along with Lazzara. The video for the single is also fantastic; Lazzara and company are visual extraordinaires, with such performance savvy you can feel their intensity. Their vocals melt together so absorbently and with such a fanatic anger that it’s easy to fall under their spell with “MakeDamnSure,” but alas, that’s one of the few highlights of the disc.
Like most of Louder Now‘s tracks, leading song “What’s It Feel Like to be a Ghost?” does provide a great beat and kick-ass vocals. There are some good riffs and some cheeky sassiness. But the song slows down about two minutes in, and Lazzara’s expressive voice winds its way in, showing a change of pace within the first song that we haven’t seen much of in their earlier work. Of course it picks up intensity, but then it levels off with a meager repetition of the title. “What’s it feel like to be a ghost / What’s it feel like to be a ghost / Louder Now / Louder Now.” If that’s the inspiration for the album’s title, then we’re in trouble.
“Liar (It Takes One to Know One)” follows “Ghost,” and just by the title I think we know the lyrics are going to be a bit childish. They are. Lazzara’s and Mascherino’s voices continue to tag each other, and the song’s catchy chorus would’ve been less embarassing if the lyrics hadn’t been written by my 12-year-old brother. “Liar” is the second sign of a sweeter, lite-version of TBS, and usually the lite entrees aren’t as filling and never as good as the original.
Songs to skip altogether include “Twenty-Twenty Surgery” and “Miami.” “Twenty-Twenty” is a slimy little bastard. It starts kind of like one of their older songs would, and then slowly builds up to a point where Lazzara’s vocals promise an intense chorus. You might even feel a sigh of relief that maybe TBS found their ground again, but no. All of a sudden, out of left field, “twenty-twenty surgery, twenty-twenty surgery for cheap” swings into the song, and it just doesn’t belong. The chorus reeks of a shallow skin, and it’s strangely reminiscent of Rooney. Yes, Taking Back Sunday sounds like “Blueside” Rooney in this song. Plus the chorus sticks in your head all day, and that’s not a good thing. Avoid this track at all costs.
Meanwhile, “Miami” starts with luscious vocals, promising, just like “Twenty-Twenty.” It’s a bit slower and a bit more seductive, but the lyrics reek of such childishness, it’s hard to stand. “Miami” crawls along, and at two minutes we hear a guitar riff that’s straight out of an ’80s hair band and absolutely doesn’t flow with the rest of the song. The lyrics make me want to vomit. Most ralph-inducing lyrics of the entire song, and possibly the CD: “Unhand me, Miami / God damn me, Miami.”
TBS sounds more genuine in “Error: Operator,” where the intensity that was lost on the rest of the CD finds its way back into this song. There’s a long guitar riff here too, and if you’re looking for stuff that sounds more like the original, this would be the choice track. “Up Against (Blackout)” chimes of older material also, but I didn’t warm up to it like I did “Error: Operator” and “MakeDamnSure.” It’s very repetitive, like most of the album, but slows down at parts that completely lose the listener. Variable rhythm is usually something TBS tends to master, but not with “Up Against.” Fellow track “Spin,” on the other hand, pounces you; it’s crazy-fast and loud. Once again, the lyrics are repetitive, but they get away with it. The problem is that “Spin” is so high-strung, it kind of drains you of energy.
Lighter sounds can be found in “My Blue Heaven” and “Divine Intervention.” I actually love “My Blue Heaven” to an extent. Lazzara starts slow and soothing, and picks up the fervor eventually. Background vocals are super-high, and it’s a side of TBS I haven’t seen. It’s not so soft that it resembles Rooney. More devout followers of TBS might hate it, but if “My Blue Heaven” were a person, I might hug it. The vocals blend with the instrumental whimsically and displays Taking Back Sunday’s strong points without the screams. “Divine Intervention,” on the other hand, is the token acoustic song of the CD, and begins soft like “My Blue Heaven.” It comes off as embarrassingly feminine, however, with Lazzara whispering “these are a few of my favorite things,” as I think a tambourine and maybe even a triangle accompany his guitar’s tap.
The beats grow, becoming weirder and weirder. It’s easy to stray from the song to figure out what sort of instruments they were actually using. Maybe they made their own maracas with dry rice and empty butter containers. Still, the song is entirely too fragile to enjoy on its own merits, and the lyrics add to this unfortunate delicacy: “if you’re calling me out, then count me out.” Lines like that might show more strength in a harder song, but in this context, they add to the wimpiness of “Divine Intervention.”
You can tell this was more of an experimental album for Taking Back Sunday when you listen to the disc’s closer, “I’ll Let You Live.” It starts with a steady, guitar-based rhythm and some screaming, and then all of sudden there’s some Shangri-la whispy hippy-like twist. It’s weird. Too weird. The rhythm obviously changes drastically throughout the whole song, and they never seem to find their niche; it’s a problem that’s symptomatic of the disc as a whole.
Bottom line: Louder Now is just lukewarm. A couple of songs are worth listening to, even on repeat, but some just slide so far off Taking Back Sunday’s beaten trail that it’s kind of disappointing to listen to them. I have no idea what they were trying to accomplish with this album, nor what demographic they were trying to cover. Maybe they were just trying to cover all bases at once, but it didn’t work. This album could spur an entirely youthful fanbase, which is already happening. When a band grows in popularity, a younger, usually more annoying audience follows in tow. That’s fine, but when the band starts to cater to these new listeners and, in doing so, leaves their older fans in the dust, there will be some qualms. This is the point in the game where TBS has to huddle, rethink and strategize: a haphazard, aimless CD won’t suit anyone.
Reviewed by Laura Misjak
