Remember when FIDLAR were relevant? Or even quite good on Almost Free in 2019? Maybe, but it’s more likely you’ll recognise their percolated impact now, as their scuffed garage-rock has migrated to a new crop of drunk-and-high beach bums in Australia rather than LA. You could convincingly dub FIDLAR as scene architects, then, doubly so when—like most architects worth their salt—what they’ve created has remained basically immobile. Their own blueprint from 2013 has basically changed hands unaltered.
And yet, the conspicuous absence of FIDLAR currently rubbing shoulders with Dune Rats, The Chats et al hasn’t gone unnoticed. Perhaps when Almost Free tagged in a more ambitious and wide-scoped viewpoint onto a sound typically anything but, the presumption was that they’d crawled up the ladder, out of reach of their disciples. Also perhaps, after a five-year gap and a massive reversion that has them skulking back with their bong between their knees, Surviving The Dream just doesn’t cut it. In such an obvious backpedal to the style they popularised, not only have FIDLAR bleached themselves of the colour and pattern they’d previously toyed with, but even the central ideas are almost rudimentary by comparison.
That’s even with the understanding that FIDLAR have seldom been inspired or even all that intelligent. You’ll get strong moments—again, most of them isolated to Almost Free—but generally, the greatest you can hope for is a more pessimistic outlook on the scene’s archetypically rampant drinking and substance-using. So to see Surviving The Dream return to that well in earnest isn’t surprising, but it isn’t encouraging either. A lot of the time, the perspective boils down to Zac Carper saying “I’m depressed and I’m taking drugs”, sometimes in terms that aren’t even much greater than that. It feels basic and stripped-out, where reverting to their roots sloughs off any growth they’d previously experienced. Like, there were critiques of gentrification in Hawaii last time; why are we back to this again?!
And it’s not just the warmed-over themes that disappoint, but also how little is explored within them. Apparently the album takes inspiration from Carper’s recent bipolar disorder diagnosis, though outside of some very fleeting moments, you’d barely be able to distinguish that from FIDLAR’s other bouts of self-medicative excess. Surviving The Dream most often feels along for the ride instead of dealing with conflicts enforced by it; Carper’s enabling of himself is intended to feel hard-hitting and cathartic, but flops without a reality to ground it. At best, Get Off My Wave justifies its cries to be left alone to self-destruct in its fuzzy hardcore blasts. At worst, however, there’s Nudge, where Carper’s dismissal of others trying to help and intervene is supposed to be cheeky and irreverent, but ends up sounding truly pitiable.
The whole thing therefore ends up in this turgid middle ground, where there isn’t fun hedonism or a compelling lashing-out in the wake of it. It feels rote and out-the-box, which even FIDLAR’s most predictable fare couldn’t be accused of. It’s the outcome of such a cavalier rewind that almost seems like a wasted effort when so much has been disregarded. Here, the indie spring and scruffy garage-rock tempos are back, the bread-and-butter of FIDLAR’s early days that barely make a dent within a much more saturated market. For an album as otherwise brisk as this is, Surviving The Dream’s cache of ideas is so washed-out of greater inspiration. I Don’t Want To Do This is the prime example of that, as FIDLAR’s standard simplicity is drawn out to the nth degree to where it’s almost entirely weightless and redundant. Even if the whole point is a Ramones-esque command of the absolute barebones basics in a way that’s still entertaining, the workmanlike attitude behind that is palpable on Surviving The Dream. FIDLAR are simply trying to hard to give off the impression that it’s being done ‘correctly’.
Nowhere is that truer than when FIDLAR do make an effort to achieve more and file down the garage-rock shackles keeping them so obsequiously immobile. Not that these songs add that much to the pot—thin alt-pop cuts Sad Kids and Break Your Heart are different flavours of the same malaise—but an odd instance or two can get somewhere. There’s a nice blur across Low that acts a mild but worthwhile grunge transmogrification, and closer Hurt might be the album’s most honest and sober turn, soundtracked by a fluttery, homegrown alt-rock shuffle that highlights how harsh a lot FIDLAR’s work can be here. It’s a feature attributed to the slew of acts co-opting their sound in their wake as well, but a ubiquity of clashing, blown-out punk isn’t letting FIDLAR off the hook. In fact, with how easily they’ll assimilate, it might be even more damning.
Because by the end of it all, you don’t feel like FIDLAR have risen from hibernation to reclaim some birthright among the bands spawned from them. Not even close. Surviving The Dream instead does what it insinuates on the tin—finds its creators simply existing among the swell of acts currently seeing way more success. And while those bands can be similarly interchangeable and uninspired, it’s by virtue of what’s around them; for FIDLAR, they’re losing to themselves. They were orders of magnitude better than this just an album ago, and now find themselves struggling to even get their head above the waterline. Their acronym of ‘Fuck It Dawg, Life’s A Risk’ being attached to an album as safe as this has never felt less appropriate.
For fans of: The Chats, Dune Rats, Violent Soho
‘Surviving The Dream’ by FIDLAR is released on 20th September.
Words by Luke Nuttall
