Review Summary: "The day that we met, I just had to have you near me."
I attended my first Vans Warped Tour during the summer before my senior year of high school. I had mostly colored inside the lines throughout my childhood and early high school career, and was only just now starting to 'rebel' and explore alternative types of music. To be fair, I think senior year is where a lot of us stopped giving a sh*t. I didn't totally abandon my studies or anything, but if you're not pursuing a meaningful form of post-secondary education, it can feel like a pointless waiting room before the grandiose graduation festivities whereupon their completion, you're thrust out into the world forever. I had one study period per day during my senior year, and I would often spend those forty-five minutes browsing the web, while the 2014 Warped Tour compilation CD funneled its way into my earbuds. On one such occasion, a song titled "Elevated" by a band I'd never heard of interrupted my absent-minded listening and grabbed the living f*ck out of my attention. The song captivated me. When school dismissed, I asked our bus driver if I could play it on the ride home. She let me, and she even enjoyed it! The rest of the kids on the bus probably didn't care for it, but for three and a half minutes, I was in my damn glory.
I knew I had to check this band out when I got home and that's how I found
The Finer Things, the debut studio album by the Albany-based pop punk titans State Champs. At the time of the album's October 2013 release, the band's lineup consisted of lead singer Derek DiScanio, lead guitarist Tyler Szalkowski, drummer Evan Ambrosio, rhythm guitarist Tony Diaz and bassist William Goodermote, the latter two of whom are no longer in the band. Released via Pure Noise Records, the album sold north of 25,000 physical copies in the US, managed to chart in the bottom half of the
Billboard 200 and was included in
Rock Sound's 2014 list of "The 51 Most Essential Pop Punk Albums of All Time." Based on cultural impact on a mass scale, perhaps an album like
Enema of the State,
Dookie or even
Ocean Avenue deserves more appraisal. But if you're asking me, I think this thirty-four minute and thirty-four second offering of pop punk perfection deserves some serious consideration among the greatest albums in the genre's history.
The members of State Champs were in their early-to-mid twenties when this album dropped, not at all that far removed from the target audience that would most gravitate to these passages. According to DiScanio, the stanzas of "Elevated" are the byproduct of Szalkowski's anxieties about the band's first extended period away from home; "Pulled aside as if I was the wrong one, you said it all and you made me the lost one." By the chorus, however, the guys are reaffirmed in their confidence about taking over the world. "I'm finally acquiring the state of mind that everything is gonna be alright," DiScanio boldly proclaims. The song glides in on shimmering guitar riffs and a reckless abandon that doesn't let up for the tune's duration. "Deadly Conversation" carries a more acoustic-laden open that gives way to blunt passages about a relationship possibly running its course. "We both know that it's wrong, to stay outside like ships in the night", Derek laments, as if to suggest the courtship is fleeting and not worth salvaging.
"Hard to Please" leans heavy on a sort of call-and-response haste in its execution, and Derek flexes his vocal chops throughout. His voice soars with clarity, and his various runs compliment Ambrosio's drumming that ramps up in intensity as the song nears conclusion. "Prepare To Be Noticed" see Szalkowski and Goodermote trade poignant lead guitar and bass fills that enrich the verses, while Derek again shines behind the mic. He can pepper a hook with plenty of gritty bite, then pile on the gloss but not so much that he'd sound out of place for the format. Champs truly got lucky with this guy. He is, without question, one of the most talented and versatile vocalists this genre has
ever seen. "Over the Line" is another visceral assault vis-a-vis a romance gone sour. "I painted all these pictures, but you couldn't choose all of your company, a disgruntled Derek pleas.
On "Simple Existence", Derek is acutely aware of the "wasteland" he occupies; "I fell asleep in a city that doesn't." Tyler and Diaz provide solid and layered backing vocals that enhance the rollicking melody. "Remedy" is all kinds of jaded and depressed lyrically, but it's so God damn upbeat, like every other song on here, that you'd be forgiven for not knowing that; "When the sun doesn't shine, it rains in my mind," Derek tells his ex-muse, outwardly accusing her of "knowing nothing about" him. About halfway through, the track briefly gasps for air before picking up on the same trajectory of inertia that might give less-prepared listeners a kind of sensory overload that suits the melancholic and almost bitter writing. "Nothing's Wrong" is a big fat told you so ("Here's to something that you said would be nothing"), performed with a sh*t-grin you can almost see through the speakers, while "Mind Bottled", the shortest track on here, pairs frenetic riffs with the album's lone sample of uncertain writing; "Was it all worth it? I built the highest bridge only to burn it," Derek admits. A glimmer of optimism persists, though, as he assures the listener "my heart's beating so you know I'm alive."
"Critical" boasts of a lot of the same zeal-laced guitars that we've gotten a hefty earful of up to this point. William again never misses a chance to pound away at the kit. Originally recorded for their 2012 EP
Overslept, as was "Remedy", the band expands on those more rudimentary recordings and this idealized finished product is yet another barrage of sweet-to-the-point-of-cavities hooks. On the song's back half and outro, Derek's voice spreads its wings once more. On closer "Easy Enough," Derek is seemingly calling it quits via text, as his clamors that "I just wanna be more than a memory" build to a repeated declaration of how the otherwise difficult task of cutting ties is made easier by this more "impersonal" farewell. Vocals and drums take up the album's march to the finish line.
The Finer Things meets its curtain call.
I can't realistically summate my thoughts without sounding like a complete fanboy, but God f*cking damn it, this album rules. There is not one subdued or vulnerable moment on here. Perhaps that's a drawback for some, but for me, that just means more chances to jam the f*ck out. I discovered this band and album at 17 years old and was every bit as locked in on this infectious energy as I am today. The lyrical depth is almost understated, because every song is an unruly jaunt waiting to be blared at full volume. Save for "Elevated" as the opener, the other ten songs could be shuffled around to oblivion, and it won't diminish the experience. Derek DiScanio is
the best pop punk vocalist of all time in my estimation, and the other four guys never take a song off either. This New York five-piece went to California to record this album, and while they didn't necessarily employ any overtly coastal vibes (think Yellowcard), they brought the energy, the poise and the purpose worthy of a group of valiantly capable upstarts. They fire on all cylinders for every last note played. They have a chip on their shoulder. At times, they show a wisdom beyond their years. Every song has the goods.
It's too youthful for the punk rock purists and maybe even too unsophisticated for people who think "Dear Maria, Count Me In" and "Don't Trust Me" are their tickets to emo street cred. But if you fall somewhere in the middle, your experience might look similar to mine.
The Finer Things is the greatest pop punk album of all time, a nonstop genre highlight reel. You'll overdose on the catchy hooks in approximately twelve seconds, but if you can hang on for the ride, you'll never wanna get off. Without a doubt, one of my all time favorite long players by any artist, and one I eagerly revisit when I want to put the world away for a while. Don't try to talk me out of it. "I can't be saved."
