Album Review: L.S. Dunes - 'Past Lives'
Debut album ‘Past Lives’ from new rock outfit LS Dunes is phenomenal: but from a band made up of bonafide legends of the game, what else would you expect? Gear up everyone — Dunesday is here.
What do you get if you take some of Thursday, a dash of My Chemical Romance, a sprinkle of Coheed & Cambria, and top it with a little Circa Survive? The answer probably won’t surprise you: some damn good music. Created in its full form at the start of 2021 — ideas had been floating around for a while, but it took a global pandemic and the threat that anything other than ‘now’ is up in the air — L.S. Dunes is a supergroup like no other, though according to the band the term ‘supergroup’ is misleading. Not that they’re not; in fact, with a comfortable century of experience between them, playing sold out shows globally to at this point countless millions, it’s hard to think that there could be a super-er group, particularly in this day and age. Rather, it just adds an expiration date — not to mention, the general haze of doubt, that they’re only doing well because of their names and the projects behind them rather than L.S. Dunes as it’s own piece of art. Which is just plain wrong. It might have helped make waves, but Past Lives is practically a tsunami, leaving you thrashing and gasping for air as you get sucked down into its depths.
Take the opener, for instance. Initially released as a track on Anthony Green’s solo album, ‘Boom. Done’, and just as quickly pulled back down from streaming services, the track was a slow paced, acoustic, existential ballad. From these online ashes, though, came the world’s first taster of the album: ‘2022’. Drums, bass and screams adorn the bare bones, twisting the melancholy into malice, the regret into rage, into an early anthem and an easy initiation. It sacrifices some of its intimacy for a roaring, soaring chorus that very quickly sets the stage for the rest of the album; full of sound and fury, signifying everything. And that’s just the first track.
There’s the insidious ‘Antibodies’, cascading over and smothering you from the first second you hit play; the fantastic ‘Grey Veins’, the lilting alliteration and sibilance in the bridge in and of itself a spectacle, a show of prowess for the hell of it. ‘Stop trying to make it seem like you make a difference’, Anthony croons with callous cynicism, in an easy, early and emo standout of the album; plus, it’s telling that Grey Veins was one of the six songs marking the band’s live debut at Aftershock festival.
Meanwhile, the foreboding, post-hardcore ‘Blender’, with its reverberating guitars and near-incomprehensible lyrics, quickly gives way to title track ‘Past Lives’, flitting between raw and visceral, and cheekily on the nose — ‘bury me in the comment section’, he asks at one point, getting ahead of the inevitable gate keeping fans of the respective bands will likely enforce on this new offering.
‘Grifter’, in its own way, seems to showcase this best. There’s the grandeur and self-indulgence of Coheed and Cambria, the vitriolic theatrics of My Chemical Romance... and within all of that is both the sonic sharpness of Thursday and just the Circa-Survive-ness that is Anthony Green’s distinct voice. Despite all the disparate elements thrown together, a smorgasbord of songs and styles, it just... works.
And then of course there are the two closers, both, in their own ways, highlights of the album.‘
Permanent Rebellion’, released in August, is nothing short of breathtaking. The tracks ebbs and flows almost immediately, the instrumentals building up into a riotous explosion that quickly, reluctantly fades back to menacingly wait for the chorus and the manic frenzy that comes with it. All five members of the band — Anthony Green, Frank Iero, Travis Steer, Tim Payne and Tucker Rule — all shine here, particularly Payne’s bass thrumming and guiding throughout. It’s tough to ever suggest a piece of work is an album of the year, but suggesting ‘Permanent Rebellion’ is the single of the year is a much easier sell.
And, possibly the strangest yet somehow most appropriate song on the album, there’s ‘Sleep Cult’. While some have bandied the term dad bod rock about to describe the band, Sleep Cult is almost gran-dad bod rock, instantly harking back to the (g)olden times of the ‘50s and even before with its slow-dance worthy sway. There’s even a gentle shoo-be-doo throughout, making the track seem a lot happier than it should; ending such a halcyonic, nostalgic song, and the album as a whole, with the parting line ‘I’m sorry that I wish that I was dead’ seems the perfect message for the band to end on.
With such titans of the industry in such a little old band, a certain amount of clashes are to be expected. A sound to dominate. But that’s not the case here; instead, everything just... works. Lost Souls is a beauty, made up of effortlessly, ferociously and downright tenaciously good songs created by a stupidly good calibre of talent who, between them, practically invented the game yet still manage to surprise everyone. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but as a metamorphosised slice of emo, post-hardcore, punk-rock goodness, it offers a hell of a lot.
Let’s just hope that the songs will be as stupidly good live when the band visit in January as they are on record.
Words by James O’Sullivan
