The first year or two after the lockdowns ended, the venues reopened, and New Yorkers finally could get back into their favorite pastime of staying out past midnight, a small scene emerged in the melodic punk scene – bands that were supposed to get their momentum right as it all shut down. With a ferocity, they jumped back into their roles of musicians, and played the same five venues over and over.
I gladly went along with it, the outsider who loved the world, the furniture piece in the audience with loud opinions. Those loud opinions turned into conversations, and friendships that changed my life for the better. These same bands felt the same annoyance as I did at how no one cared for this little scene we were building, and all the old promoters who did take it upon them fell away. It was during a conversation with Colin, Will, and Justin from Neckscars that I finally caved in and decided it was time to book shows myself. Unintentionally, it wasn’t just those nights, but it became Neckscars as a band, that changed my life.
They finally got around to releasing their second full-length, UNHINGED, and traded the characteristic gruff-punk rawness for a sound that draws influences from hardcore, alt-country, pop, grunge, and melodic punk, without ever settling into one genre.
The record starts strong, with Will’s vocals on Tiers opening the tone. The gruff has left the vocals, and you can almost feel some of the love for the punk-adjacent side of hardcore here, without being able to fully name where it goes. It’s the way the vocals lean into the loud but introspective, edge of the vocal range, the way the guitars play together, the instrumental build-up after the bridge, with the two-liner ending that brings finality: “Take in the view. See it from my eyes.”
Moving on to Manor Mooch, the energy drops to a more storytelling vibe. The repetitive nature of the instruments overshadows that a bit, and it takes until halfway through the song for it to feel more interesting, only for that then to feel just a bit too long to hold attention. It makes me wonder if this was supposed to be an acoustic song that was liked a bit too much.
You can’t contemplate that too long, because the next song, Passive Aggressive Pick-Up Truck will be right in your face. Starting loud and angry, and at no point letting up, you can feel the annoyance in this song, the frustration, the unspoken question of ‘can you just get it together, please?’
Neckscars likes to keep us guessing on what they really sound like, and Dancing in the Stars almost hits on 90’s pop. Seriously, Savage Garden kind of comes to mind during parts of the song, though this probably says more about how I process music than it does about the song.
Funny How brings back the melodic punk, with the opening riffs being completely what I expected. It’s a song that wouldn’t be out of place on their previous record, though a bit faster than what they brought there. It’s a bit too long for my liking, but that’s a usual complaint we’ve all heard before.
The same goes for the intro of Burn Me Into Nothing; my attention is lost before the song really kicks off. When it does, it hits right in the feelings, throwing the introspective emotion at you. You can do no wrong, with endless lies that you deny, reality distorted. I don’t think this is gonna end well. It hits the part of you sitting on the edge of your bed, desperately trying to make sense of life, when everything feels like it’s collapsing at once.
The record won’t let you sit in those feelings, and on Cal Ripken Current, we’re back to anger and frustration, this time at the music scene. “Why is it so hard to get twenty in the room, maybe it’s New York, or maybe it’s just you” is written for all who spent time in that scene – we all know the bands that have some slight success in their hometown, take that ego with them when on tour, and expect guarantees far beyond what they’re able to pull, only to blame everyone else. It’s the kind of behavior that usually makes bands and promoters quietly distance themselves, and now, the one called out in song.
Dual Roads feels quieter again, slowly building up, adding melodies, goes on one or two bars too long there, and then goes into the storyteller vibe that Will excels at. This time around, it does feel like it belongs with a full band, and it’s one of the songs that hits the melodic punk corner again.
On Numb, the grunge influence shines through a bit more loudly than anywhere else on the record. It moves slow, drags you along, and is completely not for me. The bridge comes out of nowhere, chaotic and fast, and I would have loved to have seen just that bridge as a short stand-alone on this record.
There’s an unspoken rule that one of your songs needs to be about Fest, and Cutting the Line (at Fest) is it for Neckscars. It’s a fast and short punk-rock song, the kind that makes me happy. If I’d have to interpret it, it’s about running into old scene friends, the ones you fell out with for reasons you pushed away for a while, for a moment missing that old connection, but upon meeting, realizing that the end of that relationship had a solid reason and that it didn’t change your trajectory – life moves on, the scene moves on without them, and you’re better off without the drama.
On Song You Used to Know, Neckscars is threading the alt-country line, and it’s yet another song that I can imagine being killer solo as well. It’s wistful, resigned, and just listening to it makes you think back on chapters closed.
Closing it out, we got Look Up, You’re Good. An album closer in every way, with the big chorus leaning on the backing vocals, a quiet bridge, and an instrumental build-up before going into the version of the chorus that is meant to be sung along to.
It’s an enjoyable listen, a record that will be revisited, but at times could use some trimming, and at times is overshadowed by repetitive drums that stand out a bit too harshly. With Kevin Daly having joined the band, I’m excited to see what the future of Neckscars will look like, and I hope they keep surprising me with the directions their songs take.
