With the frankly ridiculous amount of post-hardcore I’ve received recently it takes something pretty darn special to make me take notice. This isn’t it, but it’s certainly promising, suggesting to me that with time, Awkward Silence could grow into an impressive band.
‘Winter Air’ wins points even though it sticks fairly rigidly to the scream/sing/interlude/sing template, there are interesting moments in the bass-led breakdowns and there’s very little self-indulgence in the switches from singing to screaming. It’s as if the band are conscious of the restrictions of their chosen genre and are choosing to work around them and innovate where possible, without really going off in the opposite direction. The energetic melodies of the chorus are simple enough to be catchy, and the low-key section towards the end feeds into a pleasingly concise beatdown that is all the more effective because of its short length.
The slightly more predictable ‘Want Is The Wrong Word’ is reminiscent of the dully derivative Stories and Comets, and has none of the urgency that the preceding track thrives upon. It’s frustrating because Awkward Silence are reverting to recognisable clichés and staples of the post-hardcore genre without really stamping their own mark upon the music. ‘Crashmat’ fares better even though the jagged riffs don’t really flow into one another and tend to bounce off one another rather than augmenting the other parts of the songs. It has the juddering qualities of At The Drive-In but without the spazzed elements that made ATD-I so beloved by their fans.
As everyone that reads my reviews will probably know, I cannot stand 99% of post-hardcore that I hear, but ‘Something…’ impressed me with the small flashes of individuality evident in ‘Winter Air’ particularly. I hope that Awkward Silence take the ball and run with it rather than playing it safe and becoming yet another background band, because I think they could build up a deservedly solid reputation if they keep going in the creative direction.
Ben
www.awkwardsilence.2ya.com