As they say in fashion, trends recycle themselves a decade or so later. For emo, with all its hindsight-dubbed waves that each wash on shore with a different tinge on the original formula, every reinvigoration feels like a perfect homage to the originators while being a ticket for the next generation to get on board.
‘90s teenagers had Drive Like Jehu, Cap’n Jazz, and the screamo boom of the turn of the century. The next stage (including myself) experienced emo as a whole fad that teetered with the mainstream, before it then took older midwest and post-hardcore styles and plasticine-moulded them into a new plaid-clad look for the 2010s. The Bay Area’s Drought, having been veterans of the hardcore scene, have emerged out of various involvements within music to bring this quarter-century old sound back too. But like what’s come before, they’re giving emotionally-charged music a makeover that can only come from diverse living experiences.
Having been making waves in their native state, Drought’s three-song starter set is finally here in physical form (this EP actually found itself online in 2023, a year after the quintet formed). As most music lovers feel, including vocalist Viggy Ram, there’s no substitute for having a tangible connection with a certain collection. Released through Iodine Recordings, promoting both screamo veterans like Jeromes Dream to the new school of NØ MAN, that feeling matches the ethos of emo too: “we hope these songs keep you company when you need them to”, Ram says.
Kicking off with Consequential Love, the band lulls you into the belief of pure melodic midwest treatment, only before dragging the rug for a more frayed and rip-roaring post-hardcore ride. The punkier snarl (vocally and instrumentally) ramps up, but to say it chugs along with momentum isn’t entirely true; it’s swing gives the natural feel that you’d expect from the band playing right then and there, sweat and tears on the floor. Ram’s exasperations go from half-sung to rasped to elevated talks, and on the rollicking MacArthur Station, that’s often in the space of one verse. Then again, the quintet locks into step to deliver a tale of two halves: an oft-unorthodox verse / chorus structure, before finding some respite that precedes a final onslaught.
Centrally positioned with intention is Oh, Javelin, leading with patient drums and beautiful leads weaving over each other, washed in tasteful reverb. Capturing the sounds of Balance And Composure, and all the emotional heft of bands like La Dispute, it’s a perfect display of Drought’s handling for hold-and-release on the tough subject of guitarist RJ Rabe’s battle with cancer, and the illness of drummer Ray Avila. Like Fucked Up’s Cicada, the insect motif is used in for melancholia (“a cicada, carrying a note”), while Ram sums up life’s challenges as being “stitched together, they disappear, fading in and out of you.” It’s this theme that mimics the track’s composition with aplomb; just when you think the track’s falling away, a soft screech heralds a bopping finale that enfolds the bassline with a hug of tinkling leads and crunchy chordal play.
As a homage to a local scene’s local and community, with sounds both fresh and familiar, Drought’s EP is freckled with much-needed catharsis. Like lighting a match to the TNT, the melodic passages fizz towards the moments of explosion, and it‘s that dynamism that can best take a band’s personal inspirations fully outward. That’s certainly apparent here, and now we can hold Drought’s own experience on wax, looking forward to the next reincarnation of their emo offerings.
For fans of: Touché Amoré, Defeater, Fiddlehead
‘Drought’ by Drought is released on 14th June on Iodine Recordings.
Words by Elliot Burr
