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REVIEW: MERCY MUSIC / DANGER DAYS SPLIT | iodine rae
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After sitting on this split since its release, I’ve decided to take a stab at articulating my thoughts on both. Physically, it comes in the form of a 7” vinyl record (in five different colors, in case you’re picky, or maybe you want them all?), available on the webs through Double Helix Records, but also of course available to stream wherever your heart desires it. Even though summer has long since passed, I’d like to assert that this split contains The songs of the summer™ (they can share that title, right?). Nothing screams 2025 more to me than a couple quick-paced punk rock anthems to underscore these borderline apocalyptic times, and, sure as shit, they deliver.
From across the pond, the newly assembled—but star-studded—cast of Danger Days offers “Wasted Time”, a pop punk banger that flawlessly captures the desperate desire to ditch reality. I think they achieve this by evoking imagery of substance abuse, the through-line of which being an extended metaphor for escapism and detachment. You can imagine how this might hit close to home for many, either in the sense of the current political climate/humanitarian crises, or in a personal, emotional sense—or both, if you should be so lucky. For me, the track’s ability to identify with its audience is its driving force, and it couldn’t have been released at a better time. This track is best experienced when in motion (I personally enjoy its company on my work commute); Wasted Time takes you on a joyride, hurtling down the highway and trying to leave your problems behind. Of course, those problems will always be at your heel, but that’s precisely what’s being said: Just keep on running, don’t look behind. If I just keep going, if I look the other way, if I tune it out, and self medicate (literally or figuratively, I’m sure you can take it both ways), then it’s as if everything is fine, even when it so clearly is not. Still, it goes on to contend that to live that way is to live on borrowed time. If you shield yourself from the world, the world will keep spinning, anyway, and the days will pass you by. But, at the same time, it’s understandable (and pretty common) to shut down when under a lot of stress. It’s self-destructive to make believe and circumvent the truth—but it’s a lot easier than confronting it. It’s a constant internal struggle that makes you freeze up and detach. You know it’s hurting you, and you’re still doing it; it’s a brutal admission of self. If you, too, are feeling numb to the state of the world, or perhaps to the state of your own life, you may find yourself nodding along to the song’s bleak lyrics and relating to them to an absurd degree. Their words dangle you over the edge, calling below to the void that waits to greet you in the deepest depths of your despair, before pulling you back to land and saying, just keep holding on, the fight’s not over yet. That bridge, paired with a chord progression that disrupts the established melody and grabs your attention, switches up the tone to one that inspires a bit of hope, acknowledging that things are fucked up, and it’s easy to get lost in the commotion, falling back into old habits, but, we’re going to hold on, and we’re not giving up! It’s a tried and true message, to be sure, but it’s endlessly relevant, and there’s always someone who needs to hear it. This is a song that grabs you firmly by the shoulders and gives you a good shake—it says I see you! I get it! We’re all in this shit show together. Nikola Sarcevic (of Millencolin) gives a vocal performance that is just gruff enough to complete the semi old-school feel of the track (old-school, as in, the 90’s—I’m a wee youngling), while still having a charming, sort of velvety tone that I closely associate with the pop in pop punk. It gives off that kind of vibe, while still offering something new. I’m not familiar with these guys, but if you’re a fan of Flirting with Disaster, The Rabble, or Movin In Stereo, then you might recognize some faces here (Tony Smith, Chazz Rabble, and Scott Lamb, respectively). Without that context, though, I can still recognize the raw talent of these four. I actually thought that the drums were a standout in this one, crisp snaps of the snare tie the whole thing up in a nice, neat bow. Despite the song’s depressing subject matter, the rhythms are highly danceable, and that is an urge that’s almost impossible to ignore, at least for me. I’d love to throw down at a Danger Days gig, myself. The guitars reinforce this, too, with some overdrive and some sweet riffing to boot. Between these and the distorted, sort of tinny sounding bass, the instrumental is multifaceted, yet simple in the way that punk ought to be. It’s just fun, and it’s fun in a day and age where we all severely need it. I’m happy to say that my first impression of Danger Days was a very good one. You’ve got my attention—I’m stoked to see where this project goes.
Here in the states, beloved Las Vegas melodic punk trio Mercy Music serves up “Big Fucking Mess”, a quick strike of a song that stings so good you can’t help but listen a second or third time. Painfully honest, often self-loathing lyrics encapsulate the debilitating hopelessness that has a stranglehold on many of us, especially presently. The psychological tug of war between moving on and looking forward, or letting it all consume you, is felt palpably through singer Brendan Scholz’s despaired, yet wonderfully abrasive vocal performance. The song teeters on the highs and lows of this—melancholic and bitter, resentful when you know you’d be better off letting it go, but you just can’t; supremely frustrated and overwhelmed, and routinely wondering: Will I ever be over it? I think that its replayability speaks to the doom spiral it portrays—endlessly circling the drain, unable to break out of your depression, and feeling paralyzed as you relive the worst of it on loop. This track speaks to me most when I find myself doing just that, and if you tend to dwell on things like I do, then this one will cut deep. Sonically, it’s a bit grittier than previous Mercy Music releases, which you won’t find me objecting to, but it’s a slight refresh on their sound, while still maintaining their identity with characteristically delightful riffs and a stupidly catchy chorus. Scholz and bassist Jarred Cooper always have these complimentary parts that weave and dance, creating two distinct listening experiences when honed in on, but unifying the track overall—Big Fucking Mess is yet another brilliant example of the pair’s tuned-in musicianship. The guitar is used in a couple different ways, giving the track different layers to discover upon each listen (the gentle chugs beneath the verses, and bright, overarching licks stick out the most to me), and the bass keeps a rumbling undercurrent, mirroring the melody at times but standing out with a smooth slickness against the harsher tones. In each part of the song, there are variations in pattern and rhythm that further complicate the listening experience, in such a way that you just have to pick it all apart to fully appreciate. There are some choices being made in the mix that I find to be underrated: first, the vocal reverb echoing first on the right, then the left of the stereo field is so excellent—I’m a huge sucker for stuff like that; second, the mixed vocals, both in the shouting portions of the song/chorus, and the “aahs” in the bridge especially distinguish Big Fucking Mess from the rest of their discography, giving this new era of the band some unique footing; and lastly, I just like the tambourine that’s present throughout, I only noticed it very recently and felt it deserved an honorable mention. The track also introduces drummer Ryan Seaman, being his studio debut with Mercy Music. Like always (in my opinion, hehe), Seaman dishes out a skillfully tight, but charged performance, adding his own flair that further elevates the track. I’m not sure what it is exactly about how he plays (maybe it’s the kit he uses, or maybe his cadence), but to me, it is always distinctly him, and it is always a delight. His sound is right at home with Mercy Music; I’m beyond thrilled to see (and hear) what’s next for the three of them. My one and only complaint about Big Fucking Mess can be its runtime—it comes at you fast and ends just when you don’t want it to. Although frankly, if I had it my way, it’d last forever, so my grievances are made entirely out of love for this band. A million more records, please and thank you!
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