IN REVIEW: Incubus - "8"

I was looking forward to an Incubus album for the first time in over a decade. After the blatantly star-reaching Light Grenades, the lifeless If Not Now, When? and the tentative EP Trust Fall, a pair of singles had me cautiously optimistic for 8, Incubus' first full-length in about six years. Nimble Bastard and Glitterbomb were energetic, vibrant singles and, while they posed no threat to the band's artistic peak, I was at least assured that they intended on following through on Trust Fall's momentum.

A funny thing happened on the way to this album's release, though; as the story goes, Skrillex was brought to the studio while Incubus was well into the sessions for 8, and proceeded to try his hand at mixing one of the tunes. The band liked what they heard, and subsequently commissioned mixes for the songs they'd already completed. This included Nimble Bastard (which had already been serviced to radio and streaming), the song that got me excited for the record in the first place.

Because of this, the version of the song that appears here is far different than advertised; its drums and vocals are much louder, there are effects piled on top, and it's generally a far more obnoxious sounding track compared to its original presentation. The entire record is just as jarring, kick drums and vocals burying everything else, all oppressively loud and disorienting; I can't even really judge this thing on its songs since I spent the majority of my listening cringing at how awful it all sounds; it's borderline criminal, because I get the sense this album could be a real return to form, but I can't be sure since I made the grave mistake of actually buying the CD instead of playing it as background music through a shitty cell phone speaker, which seems to be the market this mix is going for.

Yep, I'm shaking my cane from the porch again here, but I still can't fathom why decisions are made to present music in a way that caters to streamers and does a great disservice to the band and label's direct paying customers. This is an especially grievous offence in Incubus' case since I know more suitable-for-CD mixes existed for at least some of these tracks just months ago. I feel cheated here, lured in with a good song that turned into hot garbage once I made the decision to fork over my $15. There may not be many of us left who actually care about how music sounds, but it seems to me that we deserve a hell of a lot better than a complete disregard for dynamics and squandered promises.

Is the music better than last time? Sure, I suppose so. Maybe the next time I press play and go to the other end of the house to do something other than intentionally listen to music, I might even like it. That does Incubus no good in the here and now, when I'm typing this out and having my ears assaulted by this infuriating shit sandwich of a mix. As it stands, 8 is the rock album equivalent of going to a restaurant and ordering a decent steak, and being charged for a steak, but being served a cheeseburger because most people are fine with cheeseburgers. I'm not fine with it; Incubus, you owe me a fucking steak.

April 21, 2017 • Island
Highlights No Fun • Glitterbomb • Love in a Time of Surveillance