REVIEW: Mixtapes – Ordinary Silence

Artist: Mixtapes
Album: Ordinary Silence
Genre: Pop-punk
Label: No Sleep Records

Do you remember being about 13 or 14, possibly brand new (or even a seasoned appreciator) to the world of rock and pop punk, feeling bright and positive and enthusiastic and gloriously attuned to the future? That’s what listening to Mixtapes feels like. A nostalgia fest. Given I spent this past weekend being swallowed up by increasingly aghast realisations as to how long it’s been since, say, Roadrunner United happened (tl;dr version: I’m old), Ordinary Silence is both exceedingly well-timed and exceedingly welcome. It’ll come as no surprise to long-term adherents of the Ohio outfit but this record is smart, engaging, and utterly infectious – a prime slab of summery pop delivered with breathless enthusiasm. And yet, for all its rampant energy, it’s a lot deeper and more preoccupied than you think. The themes on this record belie its fast-paced and fresh-faced sound, touching on a variety of subjects likely to be only all too relatable for its audience.

There is a refreshing innocence to Mixtapes’ sound that is utterly welcome, but, more than anything, a disarming honesty. There’s nothing here to resemble ego or self-importance and no attempts at sanctimonious preaching. The strength of this record lies in the frankness with which it treats its themes. Other bands have addressed feelings of longing, restlessness, uncertainty or disillusionment, but what separates Mixtapes and Ordinary Silence from other attempts is their upfront approach. The sensations alluded to here are instantaneous – the band don’t so much sing the blues as make you live them. They confront issues with a reckless abandon that provides equal fuel for the music, a deceptively relentless onslaught that would have one believe the record is all sweetness and light. There is a persistently dark streak to the album and a number of songs grapple with depression and unhappiness quite starkly, but there is comfort to be derived in their ability to focus on the topic plainly and simply. It feels personalised and intimate and in that, conveys a sentiment of firm positivity.

Songs like “You Look Like Springtime” and “A List of Things I Can’t Handle” evince a maturity some might find surprising. The band’s frankness might be unnerving, but it’s a vivid indication of what it is to feel young and hopeful, if perhaps slightly directionless. The band reminisces about former friends, places, and feelings and the escalating sense of disconnect that comes with the transition to adulthood. Lines like “always hoping for the best just sounds like desperation to me” and “I know it gets better but some nights never end” evoke solitude and disillusionment in stark terms far removed from the upbeat sprawl of the music. But there is something cathartic in the raw, relentless riffs and percussion. While the band’s lyrics are thoughtful, the pace of their music exudes fearlessness. It revives a freewheeling sense of fun and optimism that is very much linked to the themes of youth and nostalgia, and utterly commendable.

Their album spends a good deal of time looking backward – “Bad Parts” is restless in the extreme, and “Elevator Days” mixes quiet, animate verses with bolder, brawny moments fuelled by ferocious guitars. “I Think I Broke It” declares in fiery terms “most nights I wish I was a kid again.” But it isn’t entirely caught up in the past. Other tracks such as “C.C.S” use hindsight while resolving to look ahead. This latter track is shyer and more conscientious, with a tender piano line popping up to reflect the sensitive outlook. “Be The Speak That You Change About” is a balls-out denunciation of the scene which cuts despite the jaded vocals, and a gleaming departure from the album’s main subject-matter. It’s a testament to the band’s hard work and vision but also intelligence – in creating so engrossing a portrait of certain feelings, then using it as a springboard for more incisive songs.

Ordinary Silence has energy is self-evident, but it also has insight and heart on a scale rarely seen in the genre. Further, it manages to pack a rigid self-exploration into only 35 minutes of relatively short, ballistic songs. It’s a reminder of everything you loved about music when you were 13, but it’s now attuned to your current circumstances.

SCORE: 9/10
Review written by Grace Duffy

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