Posts Tagged ‘Sorority Noise’

It Kindly Stopped for Me artwork

Sorority Noise’s 2015 album “Joy, Departed” culminated in an awakening. On “Using,” songwriter Cameron Boucher saves the album’s biggest, grungiest riff for an explosive declaration: “I stopped wishing I was dead!” The sentiment is played mostly for celebration, and Boucher shouts it with palpable joy. But it’s also a correction, an indictment of emo’s long history of glorifying depressive thinking, and an implied apology for his complicity in that. In interviews, Boucher explained “Using” was the first song he’d ever written with a positive takeaway. Despite his struggles with mental illness, he’d decided to make the best of things. “I started loving again,” he sang.

How cruel it is, then, that just as Boucher was learning to appreciate his own life, so many of the people close to him were giving up on theirs. Since recording Joy, Departed, Boucher lost some friends to suicide , Loss on that scale would upend anybody, but it’s especially derailing for an artist who’s had reason to fear he could meet the same fate. In all likelihood he’ll be working through his grief for albums to come, and that long process begins on the home-recorded It Kindly Stopped For Me EP, a four-song cycle narrated from the perspectives of both the departed and those left behind.

Boucher doesn’t just sound bereaved; he sounds downright shell-shocked. Singing like all the color has been drained from his face, he recites most of the EP in a sickly, half-inaudible mumble. If there are listeners who haven’t checked in on Sorority Noise since their debut LP Forgettable, released only two years ago, they won’t even recognize the band. Boucher’s purged every trace of pop-punk whimsy from his songs, trading crunchy riffs and shout-along tantrums for hushed pianos and closed-mic’ed drums tapped so lightly it’s as if they’re being gently blown on.

It Kindly Stopped is as intensely somber as its subject matter demands—maybe even more so, if that’s possible—and Boucher often seems to be processing these tragedies in real time. He captured the EP’s most disquieting track, the spoken-word interlude “Fource,” while he was literally wandering through the wilderness. “I think it might be okay, I’ll be okay,” Boucher mutters unconvincingly into his recorder while trying to catch his breath. “Today was an off day; I’ve had a few.” If he wasn’t actually drunk when he recorded it, he’s a mighty convincing actor. And while the rest of the EP is more deliberate than that field recording, it’s nearly as lonesome.

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Sonics aside, what truly distinguishes this recent iteration of Sorority Noise is Boucher’s newfound sense of responsibility. In concert, he prefaces “Using” with a heartfelt introduction about mental illness and the value of life. He includes a similar plea in It Kindly Stopped For Me’s liner notes. “If you do have the opportunity to listen to this record please know that suicide is not the answer,” he writes. “Please know how important you are and how much your life matters to your family, friends, and most importantly yourself.” Yet despite his convictions, he never admonishes the dead in these songs. He sympathizes with them too much for that. On “Either Way,” he casts life as a coin toss, drawing a parallel between a friend who saw “a chance to leave a life you couldn’t lead” and his own chance “to rid myself of my toxic ways,” a chance he could have just as easily missed. That’s the lone consolation on an otherwise disheartening EP, and it’s not an insignificant one: Many of his friends are gone, but Boucher is still here and he’s still thankful for that.

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We are releasing a new 7″vinyl single comprised of two songs that were left off of our new LP You’re Not As _____ As You Think. This release serves to fill in the blank in the LP title through one lens and is intended to be a companion to the record before it.

Alone is available to purchase on vinyl now with an instant download. -Copies are available on Sorority Noise’s fall tour with Citizen and Great Grandpa.

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Sorority Noise“Week 51” from the 7″ Alone

Band Members
Cameron Boucher – guitar/vocals
Ryan McKenna – bass/vocals
Adam Ackerman – guitar/vocals
Charlie Singer- drums

There are numerous quoted studies that have equated a sleepless night with being drunk, as you get the lowered inhibitions, impaired decision making, and depressed functionality, all without any of the buzz. And so Cameron Boucher’s first lyric on Sorority Noise’s third LP explains a lot of what’s to come: “This last week/I’ve slept eight hours total.” From that point forward, “You’re Not As _____ As You Think” tries to rouse itself from that despondency the best way Sorority Noise knows how: towering twin guitar leads, blinding bursts of distortion, instantly quotable lyrics where the vocals jump up an octave. It’s the kind of record that would be called “triumphant” if Boucher was in a position to enjoy any of it.

The title of Sorority Noise’s 2015 breakthrough “Joy Departed” now carries unfortunate foreshadowing. In its wake, Boucher’s friends took their own lives by way of heroin or suicide and they were memorialized on 2016’s “It Kindly Stopped for Me” EP. Sounding like he’d slept eight hours in the past six months, Boucher’s register rarely left a conversational baritone, with offhand lyrics and monologues laid over incidental guitar and piano, almost avant-garde in its unguarded immediacy. Later that year, Boucher’s pre-Sorority Noise outfit Old Gray reformed for the blood-chilling album “Slow Burn” its scalding, minute-long screamo outbursts were the polar opposite of It Kindly Stopped for Me, but it had the same white-knuckled edge to confronting death and addiction, too emotionally drained to be anything less than direct.

“You’re Not As” opener “No Halo” finds the exact midpoint between these two projects and points Sorority Noise in a bold new direction. Boucher has never been more in command of melody while in his lower register or while inhabiting his hardcore roots. But even as the band makes one last surge towards catharsis before collapsing in an exhausted heap, there’s no relief: An organ drone fades out and the next song begins with Boucher muttering, “I’ve been feeling suicidal.” Sorority Noise’s rise in stature has coincided with an increased candor about depression and mental health treatment .  The songs are in part Boucher’s attempt to eliminate the distance between himself and the listeners and show they’re all in this together.

Similar to Modern Baseball’s “Holy Ghost” , You’re Not As rushes headlong through the outside hype and internal strife, streamlining their sound rather than expanding upon it. Joy, Departed was rife with orchestral swells, florid poetry, and obtuse song titles—the sort of things that pop-punk bands typically adopt to tell fans and the world at large know they’re trying to be taken seriously. It was only in a live setting that Sorority Noise discovered their best selves: windmilling on Gibson Explorers, letting the crowd take over during the climactic lyrics of “Using,” creating something close to group therapy.

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The bulk of You’re Not As is designed for that exact purpose. Boucher nicks lyrics from his friends on “A Better Better Sun” and flatly states, “This is the part where I did cocaine to impress every one of my mouth-breathing friends.” And then comes a goddamn pick slide. Meanwhile, the midsection of “Disappeared,” “Car,” and “Where Are You?” eliminate any melody that wouldn’t qualify as a hook. They rush as quickly as possible to the part that might give someone a sense of comfort in tragedy, or at least the understanding of what it might feel like to start losing friends in your early 20s. Boucher repeatedly chooses urgency over artifice: “You say there’s a god/You say you’ve got proof/Well I’ve lost friends to heroin/So what’s your god trying to prove?” It’s a lyric he might’ve been tempted to obscure or reword on Joy, Departed, and while the blunt immediacy of You’re Not As can occasionally come off as awkward, the discomfort of honesty is easier to handle than forced poetry.

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You’re Not As might be something closer to emo’s “Tonights The Night” a matter-of-fact, insomniac wake for those who died too young by their own hand. “I’ve got friends who’ve died, but everything’s going to be be alright,” Boucher sings on “Where Are You?” and if he doesn’t actually believe it in the moment, the show must still go on. During another restless night in the van on “Car,” Boucher muses, “It’s not ideal, but I’ve never felt more alive” and the glimmer of hope in those words feels earned. Hearing these lyrics yelled back at him as a show of solidarity might finally allow him to rest easy.

Band Members
Cameron Boucher – guitar/vocals
Ryan McKenna – bass/vocals
Adam Ackerman – guitar/vocals
Charlie Singer- drums

It’s a busy spring for us. We’ll be coming back to Mainland Europe and the United Kingdom as well in May to play new music for the first time since our new album came out.

Sorority Noise - Youre Not As As You Think

Cam Boucher, frontman of the great Connecticut emo band Sorority Noise, also has a hardcore band called Old Grey, and a few months ago, that band released “Slow Burn”, an absolute gut-ripper of an album. Sonically, Slow Burn was dark and raw and heavy, its quiet moody stretches seguing directly into molten, cathartic howls. Lyrically, it was all about depression and death, expressed in the starkest terms possible. It was the sound of a young man working through some shit.

Sorority Noise’s new album “You’re Not As __ As You Think” is a big, bright, fun album. It has soaring melodies and singalong choruses and a sense of joyous momentum to it. the new album as some kind of celebration of life after the end of a long and dark period. But that’s not what the album is. Instead, You’re Not As __ As You Think is just as starkly about death and depression, about missing your dead friends and wondering if you should be among them. It’s heavy stuff, even if the music that contains that heavy stuff is as bright and vigorous as any rock album I’ve heard in recent memory.

“It gets pretty cold when, at 23 years old, you’ve been running from death your whole life,” Boucher sings during “Where Are You?,” one of the album’s giddiest, most charged-up songs. Boucher doesn’t murmur the song, the way you’d expect someone to deliver a line like that. Instead, he hammers it hard. Boucher’s voice is big and burly and tuneful. There are certainly moments where he sounds like he’s retreating into himself, but that isn’t one of them. Instead, Boucher delivers that line like he wants you to sing along with it, like he’s willing it to become a grand moment of catharsis rather than a moment of personal doubt and depression. And that’s how the album functions: It’s intense and inward and questioning and personal and so, so sad. And it invites us into those feelings. It steers right into them.

Boucher wrote the album in response to the deaths of a few friends, especially a guy named Sean, who’d been his best friend when they were kids together in New Hampshire. Boucher mentions Sean’s name over and over, his sentiments becoming more universal because of how specific his lyrics are. Opening track “No Halo” is all about skipping Sean’s funeral and instead pondering his memory by driving by his house. Later on, Boucher considers his own death and considers the burden of staying alive, especially if he’s the vessel carrying the memories of these people. He even imagines the voices of his own dead friends: “There’s so much more to live than the flick of a knife / I’m alive because I’m alive inside you.” And he imagines his friends listening to the Gaslight Anthem’s “The ’59 Sound” — a great song specifically about kids who died too soon — while up in heaven, maybe celebrating their own passing.

That’s a happy thought, but this is not a happy album. It’s not about closure. It’s about crawling into a personal hole and not being sure how to get out: “When your best friend dies and your next friend dies and your best friend’s friend takes his life / You can spend six months on your own because there’s nobody left to talk to.” One of the album’s quieter moments arrives at the beginning of “Second Letter From St. Julien,” and it’s the sort of tortured-Catholic questioning song that we rarely ever get anymore. This time, Boucher really is murmuring inwardly: “You say there’s a God, and you say you’ve got proof / Well, I’ve lost friend to heroin, so what’s your God trying to prove? / You say He’s alive and the spirit flows through your veins / Well, I guess my best friend was just trying to help the spirit escape.” It looks sarcastic on paper, but it’s not. Boucher has structured the song as a sort of one-sided conversation with his friend and peer Julien Baker, who is Christian. And by the time the song ends, Boucher finds himself taking some comfort in the idea that there is a God, that his dead friend can find some comfort wherever he is now: “If there’s a God, do I make Him proud, put a smile on Her face? / And if you’re with God, and I making you proud by waking up each day? / And if you’re with God, well I hope you’re proud, with a smile on your face.”

Boucher might be on an internal quest on this album, but You’re Not As __ As You Think doesn’t sound like an internal-quest album. That’s because Sorority Noise, already a great rock band when they recorded 2015’s “Joy Departed” , have only gotten better. The music on the new album is about as urgent and catchy and intuitive as rock music gets these days. There’s some early Weezer in there, in the sideways guitar riffs and the choruses that almost seem embarrassed about how catchy they are. There’s some Smashing Pumpkins in the grand, theatrical guitar flare-ups and fuzzy majesty. And there’s a whole ton of turn-of-the-millennium pop-punk in the speed and immediacy of Boucher’s hooks. He and his band have done something very difficult and rewarding here: They’ve made an album that reads fragile and self-recriminating and broken while sounding powerful and confident and huge. It’ll be a little weird when these anthems of depression become joyous full-room singalongs this year, but I’d like to think that Boucher will get something good out of that, and I know that the kids singing along will.

You’re Not As _____ As You Think is out 17th March on Triple Crown Records.

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You’re Not As ___As You Think, Sorority Noise’s third album, is set for release on March 17th via Triple Crown Records. The album, produced by Mike Sapone (Brand New, Taking Back Sunday), is an emotional bulldozer – an unfiltered, inward look at the last year of the band’s life that’s filled with intimate, visceral details yet remains universally relatable. But even amidst weighty subject matter, Sorority Noise want to give you a sense of resilience: “No matter what I feel, it’s going to be OK,” Boucher says. “Things are going to be tough, but it’s going to be fine in the end – and you have to keep going because you just have to. This is how it’s going to be. You’ve just got to do it.”

Forgettable, back on wax. Flower Girl Records has a new pressing available with updated art and a richer packaging. The limited-to-200 variant of the Collectors Club will go fast. First come first serve! flowergirlrecords.com

Sorority Noise – “A Better Sun” from the album
You’re Not As ___________ As You Think out 17th March on Triple Crown Records

Out of all the songs on Joy, Departed, “Nolsey” captures the Sorority Noise best. Over some Weezer-style guitar chugging and straight-up rock flourishes, we hear Cameron Boucher yearn for happiness and love. It’s like a much drearier version of “Perfect Situation.” Sorority Noise’s ability to rock out like this allows them to mask depression in a wave of catharsis. That’s the magic (if you want to call it that) of Sorority Noise.

There are many inspiring moments on Joy, Departed, the kinds of isolated flickers of genius that most triumphant rock music is made of: fiery guitar squalls, drum fills that hit like avalanches, roaring swells of bombast, and especially Cameron Boucher’s clever, heart-wrecking turns of phrase. These details are so plentiful and so frequent that it’s possible to appreciate the album on a micro level, as a series of nonstop thrills, without ever zooming out. But the big picture, an honest portrait of pressing through addiction and depression, is worth meditating on long after the endorphin rush is gone.

Joy, Departed is Sorority Noise’s second full length. 2014 saw the band release a split with Somos, another with Radiator Hospital and their debut full length Forgettable. Joy, Departed shows growth in the band’s song writing while taking influences from Brand New, introducing more atmospheric and angular guitars while keeping true to the bands quirky honest lyrics. FFO: Brand New, Joyce Manor, Modern Baseball. 200 on clear beer with royal blue splatter vinyl,

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Members: Cameron Boucher – guitar/vocals Ryan McKenna – bass/vocals Adam Ackerman – guitar/vocals Charlie Singer- drums