Pop punk or orgcore can be an exercise in futility. How do we use those tropes created by our predecessors to create something that is wholly original? It’s a subgenre marred by the ecstasies of youth, in which tired put upon cliched lines become insulting. Songs become too obvious, without any obscuring of emotions. There’s “heart on your sleeve” and then there’s the random drunk stranger who tells you his life story when you’re just trying to hang with your friends.
The onus is upon the artists to take those chords and common progressions and put their imprint on the subgenre. Music at its best is in constant conversation with each other, trying to harken back to older bands, while moving the form forward.
Distants, from Chicago, show with their latest release what well-considered pop punk can be. Songs are honed in to their simplest parts. It is an exercise of depth and brevity.
Even with their debut EP in 2018, songs are tightly wound, with several disparate parts coming together. Chords and riffs intermingle, bouncing in and out, accenting and elevating sections for short periods. They quickly say their piece and leave the stage like an Irish goodbye. It’s better to leave people salivating for more than to drag a song out and annoy the listener with any number of complaints.
There is a narrative arc in every song, like a well told sitcom episode. Each section builds off each other in a way that makes sense, leading to a natural conclusion. The newest EP just takes different pathways than their previous work. For example, in a song like Learning more, in between wide open, sustained power chords, a mathy noodly riff appears. It’s only for a few seconds, before we make haste towards the verse, but serves as an essential building block.
It’s these little or big decisions that stroke your curiosity when listening over multiple playthroughs. Maybe it’s the little break, in between song three and four, with a bass line serving as the transitional paragraph, before the raucous euphoria of the song “Reference.” Or maybe it’s the rhythmic, booming, pulsating movement of “12th Street Beach.” It may even be the sequencing, in which you have a puzzled look, wondering why they made the decision to end Side B with “White Flags.”
Singer Alex Angus obscures, only cheekily telling us what is on his mind. It deals with a lot of the same issues as many other punk songwriters. Though, its conclusion is different. It isn’t “I’m sad, so I’ll drink a beer,” or “I’m getting old, but at least I have my friends.” It’s more of a resigned acceptance of the fact of aging. You can still talk about universal topics, such as depression, growing old, and relationships. All that is asked is to give your words a meaningful consideration, ignoring phrases, that, when put together lose all meaning.
Many artists are content in running back the same songwriting “formula” for their entire career. Iron Chic is able to sell out medium-sized club because of it. But then, there are other bands in the pop punk realm, who with each release are trying to progress forward. There isn’t a definable sound because each record cuts, pastes, and adds to their previous work. Distants, with their new 12-inch, fit into the latter, improving upon their debut while not veering too far from the pop punk subgenre.