Polar Bear Club
Sometimes Things Just Disappear
Red Leader Records
By Kevin Hakansson
Making a hardcore record that matters is a task easier said than done. Granted, there are a few bands kicking around who can still combine breakdowns, blast beats and warp-speed tempos and make it work, but for an increasingly saturated independent music scene, it’s become imperative to bring something else to the table. What Polar Bear Club brings to said table are clearly developed senses of melody and harmony that few, if any, of their hard rocking peers can boast.
Composed of a number of upstate New York underground veterans (members of bands like Achilles, Marathon and Spark Lights the Friction), Polar Bear Club turns such experience into unbridled intensity. Sometimes Things Just Disappear, the band’s debut full-length, is, in a word, unrelenting. Vocalist Jimmy Stadt provides a good deal of the record’s energy. His versatile vocals, generally a harsh, grating moan, are nonetheless tuneful, adapting to any musical backing his band lays down, never negatively altering what the band is going for emotionally. If anything, he helps set the tone. Take the opening “Eat Dinner, Bury the Dog, and Run” for instance. After a quiet, open intro, Stadt bleats over the band’s distorted, punctuated verse. When the band arrives at a more tuneful chorus, their vocalist comes with them, harmonizing the “Yeah, I‘m a fuck up” refrain.
Polar Bear Club draws a number of different comparisons throughout Sometimes. Clean, dissonant, yearning guitar passages, like the one found at the top of “The Bug Parade” are reminiscent of early ’90s emo heroes like Texas is the Reason or Sunny Day Real Estate. The same song’s “Minutes away, but miles apart” breakdown/outro screams of Small Brown Bike, while the band does their best Bad Religion imitation on “Heart Attack at Thirty.” Stadt is a comparison in and of himself; stop paying attention for too long, and you might trick yourself into thinking you’re hearing Chuck Ragan or Tom Gabel.
What’s special about all the comparisons that can be applied to Polar Bear Club is that often, each comparison might be made within the same song. The anthemic “Burned Out in a Jar” is a perfect example. The song starts with Stadt proving that he’s more than just a screamer, carrying a perfect melody. While he returns to this same M.O. during the song’s chorus, the choruses are angst-ridden and a little rough around the edges, but nonetheless uplifting. It turns out that such a formula works out pretty well. “As ’Twere The Mirror” is one of the band’s finest hook/melody/growl marriages, while the closing “Convinced I’m Wrong” shows the band at their emotional. After a quiet acoustic/vocal intro, this one feels like a slow-motion replay, Stadt belting out the song’s “Don’t Go” chorus over and over. Just when the song seems over, the band punches you in the gut, jumping back in for one more go around.
All things, considered, Sometimes Things Just Disappear is quite an auspicious initial album for Polar Bear Club, whose debut EP made some waves after its ‘06 release. The record is a collection of ten songs that all show off songwriting that should appeal to just about any fan of any remotely alternative music, from the 15-year old Fall Out Boy fan who just heard of Minor Threat, to the grizzled hardcore kid who forgot how much he likes Jimmy Eat World. They do many things well, but don’t play a single note that sounds forced or unnatural, which, considering the turf they cover, is saying something
|
