Oh, Hands Like Houses…it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Back in the early 2010s, they were the ones to beat for slick, pop-pristine post-hardcore, through an injection of flavour and vibrancy that was vastly above the standard level. At their pinnacle, 2013’s Unimagine ran completely at odds with its name, in themes of environmentalism set to more than a handful of rushing, star-making melodies.
Unfortunately, a few years down the line came Anon.—an album that embodied its name all too well—and the recovery has been slow to get going ever since. Bear in mind, that album was released in 2018; this current middling era has now lasted longer than their glory days. And you’d presume that Trenton Woodley felt some discomfort at that, seeing as his sudden departure in mid-2023 came via such reasons as “dysfunction” and “differences in perspective”. To further play armchair psychologist, the band inking in his permanent replacement by the year’s end could suggest them wanting to stick to the script as they have been for the last few years, diverging with Woodley’s role as an ideas man that was allowed to flourish earlier on. Considering the album released in his stead, it makes way too much sense.
Up front now is Josh Raven on The Faim, and immediately the contrasts with Woodley open themselves up. Woodley had poise and power, and a real fluidity the brought out the best of his material’s openness. Raven, meanwhile, seems to most enjoy the clearance the shout and belt and emote to where he sounds on the verge of tears. It’s only the jumping-off point for the diminished personality that ATMOSPHERICS wants to foist forth (for some reason), and it’s also the least objectionable part of it. At least Raven can blast out a chorus to where they’ll remotely stick; a good half of the album might fall into this category, though the likes of Heaven and BLOODRUSH are definitely a cut above.
And that’s the point where you realise how you’re grasping at literally anything to justify this album’s existence, as ATMOSPHERICS has nothing else to offer. Like, at all. Factor out the hook propensity and how that’s already the entry-level for bar for alt-metalcore like this, and there’s barely a memorable instance to latch onto. We’ve done a full 180 from the detailed, dynamic work of Hands Like Houses’ best, to the same row of mid-paced, dulled-down slabs that are effectively indistinguishable from any likeminded band in a multiple-mile vicinity. Hell, forget that; most of the time, they’re indistinguishable from themselves! It’s frankly appalling that this is how far Hands Like Houses have fallen, where even the album highlights or merits barely rise above. The closest it gets to a true-blue singular idea is The End, with a more low-key robo-pop shuffle that, naturally, is only found at the very back end of this hour-long gauntlet.
Oh yeah, this is also a double album, to make things automatically worse. And not just a double album, but one comprised of four EPs mashed together, each named after a different layer of the Earth’s atmosphere. Hands Like Houses Mk1 might have built something from that promise of natural loftiness, but that feels above their pay grade now. Don’t confuse length for ambition—ATMOSPHERICS might have the most material of any Hands Like Houses album, but maybe the fewest actual ideas. What’s more, there are points where they actively seem to want to dissuade even the tiniest germ of creativity. Hollow smuggles in some acoustic texture (not tone, but it’s something), only to have it bulldozed by the stock-standard instrumental kit. Elsewhere, Fatally Fractured comes the closest to playing around with alt-metal tone outside the norm, but the flatly-laid guitars within it brutally sever any effectiveness. Even in lyrical themes and motifs, there’s a clear regression—voices / a war in one’s head on Heaven and Chemicals respectively; Wildfire, where you can likely glean the central conceit from title alone; mental claustrophobia and panic on ICU; this is basic, pedestrian stuff.
But nowhere does the lack of ideas ring truer than with the guest stars. If Hands Like Houses don’t want to bring flavour themselves, here’s the chance to at least palm it off on others, and par for the course for this album, it’s squandered. To be as charitable as possible, it might only seem worse than it is in the context of the album. It’s not like metalcore is renowned for its array of collaborative vividity, as opposed to just bringing another name onboard for a small boost to each party. ATMOSPHERICS is no different, then, where none of the roles couldn’t not have been outsourced, but the opportunities are no less wasted. RedHook’s Emmy Mack fares the best on BLOODRUSH by virtue of having the most different voice. Meanwhile, Underøath’s Aaron Gillespie and even Sleeping With Sirens’ Kellin Quinn (somehow) feel totally anonymous on Better Before and Obey respectively. But d’you know what? They’re not the most egregious examples of mismanaged resources here. Here’s a pro tip for Hands Like Houses: if you’re teaming up with Normandie for Hurts Like Hell, maybe try not to make it sound functionally identical to your collaborators’ own Babylon.
That might be the greatest illustration of where everything wrong about ATMOSPHERICS stems from—its creators have nothing of their own anymore. At least on recent Hands Like Houses releases, they could coast on the efforts of a gifted frontman. Now, they’ve fully assimilated into the lumpy scene soup that likely believes itself to be far more worthwhile than it actually is. It’s not even like this is totally bad, as much as absent of qualities that’d make it seem like anything at all. Even if it weren’t so unwieldily long, maybe it could stick a little longer. But as it stands, the vibe that ATMOSPHERICS emits is of a husk of what Hands Like Houses used to be, one of their scene’s shining lights snuffed of spark and thrown headfirst into the meat-grinder. ‘Disappointing’ doesn’t even come close enough.
For fans of: Normandie, Dayseeker, The Word Alive
‘ATMOSPHERICS’ by Hands Like Houses is released on 14th February on Civilians.
