- It’s finally here. Having held out for Cheer since whispers came through following an Audiotree session and having followed Drug Church since the Paul Walker days, my excitement was palpable. Throwing up humorous tales of human underbelly with sardonic, introspective and observational case studies dripping with bile and flushed with chunky, beefed up playing has been a central ideology since day dot. Deceptive amounts of detail can be found amongst hardcore punk flavours. It may take time to digest but much like the show about nothing, the more time you give it, the more it will yield for you. Disguising crossover hooks with relentless performances, strained barks, and skewing it all with a healthy dose of cynicism, Drug Church delivers their most potent sermon to date.
Right off the bat, Grubby fast establishes itself as this album’s launching point. Screeching into fruition and acting as a reference to the collection’s hardcore history, something that is revisited later in the record, it begins proceedings with intent. Followed by two of the album's singles Strong References and Avoidrama, they work exponentially better within the context of the record. The latter revolves around a muscular rhythm, exploding during the choruses thanks to minimalist writing. It’s simple, straight forward and executed to perfection.
Once Dollar Story and Unlicensed Guidance Counsellor make their way into the track listing, Patrick Kindlon’s vocals retreat slightly into these shimmery and melodic moments. Kindlon barks detailed, escapist short stories. Being able to place the listener firmly in these moments and siphon empathy for those involved is a definitive draw card for Drug Church. Hearing him masked slightly by more layered mixes hinders the impact of some of his lyrics. On the flip side, hearing Drug Church effectively incorporate acoustic guitars and multiple backing vocals demonstrates an upgrade to their arsenal. It’s woven seamlessly into these songs and it comes as a surprise they’ve not already done so. While diminishin the amount of pure muscle in their songs, the quintet come through more focussed in their despondency. Songs like Weed Pin, Unlicensed Hall Monitor and Conflict Minded convey tales well within the Drug Church canon. They evoke the ills and frustration of minimum wage labour, the ugly side of people put on blast, and being a magnet for negativity. I’m still racking my brain trying to work out who the vocal feature is at the end of Conflict Minded. It might not have the catchiest hook or best riff on the record but it does show how far the band has come. Hearing something other than Kindlon’s voice on a song was initially odd. Those raspy barks and one of a kind guitar work were synonymous and exclusive to each other but they’ve grown that much as a band: the extra vocals slots in with ease.
The ten tracks that come together to make Cheer hold true to everything that made me fall in love with Drug Church. These songs celebrate the wholesome pleasure in burying memorable hooks under slabs of hefty performances and guitar pedals. Their fourth record is hopefully not their last. Drug Church keep pulling apart and reassembling their approach to alternative rock. Surprisingly, though it should be too heavy for the rock crowd and not heavy enough for hardcore, it's always an astounding success. Class riffs, flexing rhythm sections, raw vocals, and enough of a bad attitude, Cheer lets fly from the pulpit with tales of the less than okay. Microscopically analysed and tinted with defeatist, facetious humour, these everyday struggles become hurdles to clear as opposed to barriers. Drug Church sound like no one else. Bless yourself before you enter.
- Matt Lynch.