The North Atlantic, Wires In The Walls

Sometimes a band is its own worst enemy, and that seems to be the case with avant-garde punks The North Alantic. On their sophomore album, Wires In The Walls, the guys can’t seem to decide if they want to thrash or chill. And picking one side or the other would be a good thing, if they made their sound congeal. The problem is that they don’t, and it’s hard to pay attention as the album lumbers from one track to the next, thrashing without distinction or any catchy release.

Wires In The Walls comes off as a mess, although that may be what the band intended. The sound is scathing, scratchy, and worn — the ultimate in the DIY punk aesthetic. At first listen, Wires almost mimics Glassjaw, but several of the tracks, especially the openers, are so gnarly and abrasive that they stagnate the intensity and offset the sting. With so much noise and so little song, the tracks often seem to overpower themselves. Even the singer has to scream over the tracks. And therein lies the problem: it’s just too much noise.

Frontman Cullen Hendrix howls of cities tainted by mud, nerdy ex-girlfriends, and love gone awry — interesting topics, to say the least, but how can the words resonate when the lyrics can barely be heard? When Hendrix whines “I’d rather listen to my Clash records all night than be with you,” I just can’t help but feel the same way; at least The Clash could rock and still could hold down a melody.

Despite my commentary, the album does showcase an untapped reserve of talent and potential that could come to fruition should the band decide to use it. So here’s my suggestion, should the band decide to heed it: ditch the over-the-top hardcore aesthetic and explore the Pavement-tinged angst of ballads like “Scientist Girl” instead. Its jangly guitars, broken harmonies, and bittersweet lines make this track a keeper, more so than the rest.