Even without the name drop on this album, the influence of Dashboard Confessional continues to practically engulf Cory Wells. It’s something that becomes more prominent as he continues, too. On his debut The Way We Were in 2019, the brushstrokes of acoustic, singer-songwriterly emo were arranged in notably Carrabba-ian fashion; now, going over them again in many of the same ways serves primarily to embolden. And that’s perfectly okay, in order for Wells to capture the essence of his niche. He’s one of few acoustic soloists in the pop-punk / emo / post-hardcore / whatever-else-adjacent scene that hasn’t spun off from an established band, in itself a string to his bow. He’s also very good at emoting in ways that can illustrate any personal event as a core-shaking blow, which a Dashboard Confessional riff kind of relies on to get literally anywhere.
It’s also not like there isn’t an audience who’ll buy into that kind of artistry way, way more than others. Dashboard themselves relied on a steady supply of brooding, lovelorn teenagers shouldering the weight of the world, and you can easily imagine Wells doing the same. And that’s not to doubt or disbelieve the place of trauma he asserts to write from; more so that, from the perspective of someone who’s long grown out of an emo phase, that kind of setup has fallen short in the past. Thankfully, Wells knows what he’s doing, and rather succinctly, at that. He did on The Way We Were (which, even back then, was a pleasant surprise), and arguably, Harboring The Hurt I’ve Caused achieves even more.
Now, it’s important to also take that as relatively as you deem fit. For some—even those partial to a good emo weep-athon—there’ll be something to the broad strokes and relative lack of specifics that ends up wearing this down in record time. Even from what details can be pieced together, Wells smouldering post-breakup at circumstances that were his own doing may read more like a pity party than a sufficient emotional response. You don’t give an album that title and fill its title-track with lines like “I’m only getting worse” without some probability of a side-eye.
It’s handy, then, that Wells is rather good at excoriating himself to make the weight and toll on himself seem genuine. Being the good singer that he is is a start, with a voice reminiscent of the slew of pop-punk soloists, though tailored explicitly to singer-songwriter fare rather than bent to meet it. There’s more emotion wrung out that way, as songs like Gravity and Breathe Again that are more cleanly mappable to pop-rock aren’t hemmed in by that fact. More to the point, Wells will pull out screams that, at times with the instrumental backing they have, aren’t wholly far from ‘The Wave’ of the 2010s, or even Being As An Ocean in their better moments. Seriously, Hopeless towards the end has so much of that energy, squirming and quaking with absolutist intent with the solemn acoustic guitar making it all the sadder and more destitute. That’s not your everyday singer-songwriter thing; that’s practically exclusive to Wells.
Put it all together, and you land in the same ballpark as an artist like Ruston Kelly at times, proprietor of the ‘dirt-emo’ tag which Wells is more than capable of tweaking into his own liking. Granted, that comes with him not dredging up blows as devastating as Radio Cloud or Michael Keaton can be; this is firmly set to live in the parameters of the scene, met expectations and all. Still, if Dashboard Confessional truly are the white whale, then Wells is going on his journey the right way. Songs are more streamlined and accommodating of hooks overall, often to where they’ll be surprisingly sticky like on Gravity and Do You Like That You Love Me. There’s also the aforementioned matter of Wells as a performer, so capable as he is at being a magnetised force for some genuine, open expression. Even Long Long Time, sheared of the wistfulness and sonder of Linda Ronstadt’s original, twists into a recontextualisation in Wells’ rawness for a good—if not entirely better—reframing. The high note on the final chorus is pretty great, though; no complaints there.
The onus is unquestionably on Wells throughout, meaning that instrumentation isn’t enormously pertinent. Sombre acoustic guitars are the main component, occasionally with some light percussion or, on Empty, touches of banjo, and some layers of reverb placed upon Do You Like That You Love Me or Breathe Again. That’s really about it; nothing too out of the ordinary for the intent, down to a cleaner production job to mirror Carrabba-senpai’s own emo impulses. And yet, compared to some severely diminished returns with them, Wells is remaining fairly solid. He definitely stands alone among the scene’s current crop of emo troubadours, largely to the benefit of himself through passion and intensity that others just don’t have to the same extent. Despite the severe allergies to this sort of thing some will inevitably have, Wells can rise above an otherwise limited ceiling, scream out his piece, and actually be heard loud and clear.
For fans of: Dashboard Confessional, Speak Low If You Speak Love, Ruston Kelly
‘Harboring The Hurt I’ve Caused’ by Cory Wells is released on 15th March on Pure Noise Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
