IN REVIEW: Fucked Up - "Glass Boys"

There are a lot of bands for whom the word "epic" is thrown around, and few of them have earned the adjective quite as much as Fucked Up. 2011's David Comes to Life wasn't just a supersized concept album with a sprawling narrative over four acts and orgies of sound, it was a grand statement, burning the proverbial rule book of hardcore and putting the music world to rights. It was brash and bold, to be sure, but it was also immensely melodic; under its gruff and gnarled exterior were heartfelt, well crafted songs, soothing the soul even as they spat and screamed. It wasn't the clear choice for Album of the Year at the time, but three years removed I don't regret my choice a bit because I've continued to go back to it and continued to find new reasons to love it. I haven't even mentioned the several bonus tracks cut from the album due to time constraints, nor the accompanying David's Town album that featured guest vocalists. All told, the complete David Comes to Life experience clocks in at around three hours; if that's not epic, I don't know what is.

In a move that some will celebrate while others castigate, Glass Boys doesn't pick up where David Comes to Life left off; rather than attempt to outdo themselves, Fucked Up have scaled it all back. Their fourth official album is a concise, ten-song blast without much of a connective narrative tissue, nor patience-testing song lengths such as are on display throughout their ongoing Zodiac series or, say, Swans' more adventurous endeavors. What we get instead is a quick (by this band's standards, at least) 42 minutes of majestic noise that never loses momentum. It's still huge sounding and captivating, but its condensed presentation makes it easier to digest.

Like with all previous Fucked Up records, your enjoyment of Glass Boys will depend chiefly on your tolerance for Damian Abraham's barbed wire shout-speak, and if you can look past the abrasive vocals you'll find an incredibly melodic record, guitars harmonizing even as they twist, crash and screech. The band's music has always seemed like an otherworldly, uplifting counterpart to the ugliness of the vocals, and that's even more apropos here; it's as majestic as they've ever sounded, and some of this band's past work has been majestic as fuck.

At times, Glass Boys seems like a victory lap; the celebratory tone of Sun Glass, the arena-sized shimmer and thud of Echo Boomer, the swirling AC/DC-meets-Replacements roar of The Art of Patrons (featuring a particularly inspired guest shot from Gord Downie) and the heavens-reaching, guitar-drenched money shot that is the title track (and closest cousin to DCTL on display here) all positively soar. That's not to take anything away from the other six tracks, as they all have merits of their own. Touch Stone and The Great Divide are the most intense moments, while previously unveiled tracks Paper the House and Led By Hand burst from the speakers with confidence and bombast, the latter getting some vocal assistance courtesy of Dinosaur Jr.'s J. Mascis. And the fiery groove of Warm Change and the slowly exploding DET are no slouches either. In fact, after a couple good spins of Glass Boys, I can see any one of the ten tracks being someone's favourite, and can't think of a good reason to argue with them.

Once the dust settles, Glass Boys isn't a return to roots nor a bold progression, but what it lacks in ingenuity it makes up for in execution. It's addition by subtraction, a band distilling what makes them special into a more concentrated dose. Is it their best album? That's too close to call right now, but it's certainly their most effective. Glass Boys delivers the same thrills in a fraction of the time and, rather than wear me down, it had me scrambling for repeat listens upon its conclusion. Bottom line: it's a near perfect, blissful riot of a record that's well worth throwing yourself into, again and again and again.

June 3, 2014 • Arts & Crafts

Highlights Echo Boomer • Sun Glass • The Art of Patrons