Honesty is a strange thing. It isn’t the same as lying, but it’s not the same as truth either. A song doesn’t need truth to feel honest, just like how honesty isn’t always true. One of the best things about music is that it’s so conflicting, so personal, it’s hard to agree which song is best, let alone what passes for sincere. As an emo band, Free Throw’s career has been built upon truth-telling, on laying themselves bare, and that’s no different on ‘Moments Before The Wind’, a record defined by its consistency and quality.
On what is the band’s sixth album, vocalist/guitarist Cory Castro has written about a time of change; a time when he felt lost. He’s attempted to capture those emotions, and the results speak for themselves. It’s a strong, detailed album underpinned by the sound of a band who are sure of what they’re trying to achieve. To put this into perspective, The Beatles’ sixth album was ‘Rubber Soul’, and Bring Me The Horizon’s was ‘Amo’ – that’s how far six albums can take you. Free Throw haven’t taken that path. They still sound like Free Throw. But time cannot stand still. Even when using the same template, you cannot make the same record twice. Essentially, they’re in a maintenance phase. This is less ostentatious, older, wiser and more mature than 2023’s ‘Lessons That We Swear To Keep’ but it still explores similar terrain. While the album lacks anything mind-blowing or with real teeth, there is a high quality threshold. If nothing else, it’s reassuring that they know exactly what they’re doing.
From the moment each song starts you’ll be able to recognise the band’s approach; a feel, a tone, a warmth. It has a mood. However, they present it in different ways. Where ‘Floaroma Town’ has a jaunty flow, ‘Hero’s Grave’ is built around a plodding drum groove. It means the songs feel individual while sharing an emotional core.
The decision to co-write these songs with longtime producer Brett Romnes implies a sense of trust – an understanding of how each other work and of what the results will be. It’s a safe working relationship too, ideal for this type of record. It also taps into the recent trend toward honesty – with the viral surge of songs like Coldplay’s ‘Sparks’ and Weezer’s ‘Go Away’ appearing to be a straightforward look into someone’s psyche.
Cory Castro’s interesting lead vocals contribute to much of the band’s character. Despite having a somewhat oak-aged intonation, there’s also a youthful, pop-punk edge to the way he sings that is quite distinctive. By leaning on the ‘ay’ and ‘orr’ sounds, then propelling his voice in a different direction altogether, his phrasing often feels emotional or ungainly. It’s a compelling sound, and he uses that edge to create powerful hooks, especially for those who like vocals with a strong flavour. His vocal inflections also fit remarkably well within the scratchy yelling of songs like ‘Mike Nolan’s Long Weekend’, where the contrast adds a bit of lift.
On this record Castro encounters the problem that all elder emos face; time. If the music is based on emotional truth or tales from your diary, you must be very careful how it’s presented. An older man throwing a temper tantrum can sound crass and frightening. Thankfully, however, the tone is neatly balanced to feel hurt, but not angry. That’s an important distinction, making songs like ‘The Need For A Post-Credits Scene’ sore when it could easily have sounded nasty.
Musically, the band make the most out of their three guitarists. Songs like ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’ or ‘Floaroma Town’ intertwine their parts in small, delicate ways. While the drums are toned down in comparison to the band’s earlier records, they are still very much a part of Free Throw’s presentation, and songs like ‘For Those Who Come Home After’ and ‘Deviancy’ are powered by the rhythm section. These louche, swaggering songs have a different sense of momentum and significantly contribute to the album’s flow.
The most striking song – ‘The Need For A Post-Credits Scene’ – is the album’s centrepiece. As a longer, more in-depth piece of storytelling, it sonically depicts an ending. Beneath an earnest vocal, the different guitar parts weave together the tale of a stable relationship until suddenly the song contorts into a heavy, messy, and surprisingly understated breakdown, as the relationship falls apart. During the first movement, the music audibly shifts as Castro sings: “Grab your keys and leave”. Yet his perspective repeatedly shifts, until he’s whispering: “When does this movie end?’” at the song’s conclusion. It’s a great encapsulation of the song, embodying the heightened realness of the situation.
In many ways, it feels strange for the group to paint an intimate portrait of a person – as is heard in the use of backing counter melodies on the rich, confident opener ‘Missing no.’. Meanwhile the stripped-back, delicately-picked guitars that back ‘This Dollar General Store Ain’t Gonna Rob Itself’ are a chance for Castro’s unconstrained honesty to shine. It’s a raw and beautiful snapshot, illustrating exactly what is going on beneath the more complex arrangements.
The final track ‘The Waters Of Life’ features a layered and interwoven pattern of guitars almost in the post-rock style of bands like TTNG. It’s a mixture of intimate and energetic, and a delightful end to the record.
Evolution isn’t always about big changes, it can also be about wisdom. ‘Moments Before The Wind’ is a great record, honestly.
IAN KENWORTHY