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May 03, 2016 White Lung By Ed McMenamin

An abrasive hardcore band progressing from pummeling noise to nuanced songwriting is hardly novel in 2016. It’s almost perfunctory, part of the Internet’s cred-to-buzz-to-respectability-to-longevity arc. Fucked Up, The Men, and others have recently made this transition, often looking backwards to previous eras for inspiration: the conceptual rock opera for latter-days Fucked Up, Neil Young and the Stones for The Men.

Paradise represents White Lung’s big songwriting moment. When asked about the new record, the three-piece is quick to defend itself from punk strawmen who would throw shade at the band for daring to improve its songwriting. The problem with this narrative is that frontwoman Mish Way and crew were already excellent songwriters, pairing noisy-yet-complex guitar parts with shout-along vocals, buttressed by a melodic streak, for three good-to-excellent LPs. In a way, Paradise confuses advanced songwriting with simplicity. The songs are catchy in the worst way, the kind of Max Martin choruses heard coming from a mile away; predictable melodic patterns resolve in the listener’s mind well before the band finishes the task. It’s a step back, not forward. Way’s vocals, at one time arresting, now sound histrionic.

What remains is the speed and unrelenting tempo of previous releases, only served with a gloss and heavy guitar production that comes across like chart pop with a metalcore coating. The band say they wanted to sound “2016” on Paradise, and to vanquish the threadbare-yet-complimentary references (L7, Babes in Toyland, etc.) critics favored when describing the first three LPs. White Lung, admirably, didn’t want to just make another classic rock album like so many of its reform-punk peers. Instead, Paradise sounds contemporary in the worst way, instantly dated and likely soon forgotten by any new audience the band might find. (www.whitelung.ca)

Author rating: 4/10