The Wonder Years- No Closer to Heaven

During the past few years The Wonder Years have chronicled the highs and lows of depression and existential angst. The passionate lyrics found an audience who could relate, a group of outsiders looking for someone who could relate. Much like the early days of punk music, the music and its message showed listeners that they were not alone, that their thoughts and feelings were important and that somewhere out there existed people just like them. The evolution that the band has undergone throughout five albums is staggering in magnitude, from the embarrassingly awkward easycore beginnings through modern pop punk to the stylistically mature sound introduced on The Greatest Generation. After wrapping up their trilogy, the guys show that they are comfortable with their skills on the new release, which is a slighter shift in sound than we’ve heard from the band. Instead they build upon the high points of their last album with small explorations of new ideas. Constant touring and a larger recording budget have helped the band most fully realize their vision.

While Dan Campbell’s lyrics have always been a focal point for fans (although there is arguably nothing worth worshipping in duds like “Let’s Moshercise!”), he has significantly grown as a writer over the past couple albums. His appreciation of classic writers has never been a secret, but occasionally the lyrical tributes have been a little awkward. Hemingway’s straightforward prose and descent into alcoholism are appropriate touchstones, but the exceptional work of wordsmith Faulkner is out of Campbell’s wheelhouse, despite the fact that his Southern Gothic tales are also brimming with despair. While there is plenty of self reflection found, there are moments of social commentary that were absent in past releases. On “Stained Glass Ceilings,” he sings John Wayne with a God complex/ Tells me to buy a gun/ Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems, touching a nerve that is all too relevant in the Orwellian world of the U.S. today. 

No Closer to Heaven fits thematically in the progression of the last three albums. Campbell expresses discomfort through deadpan realism, forcing listeners to ride along with his emotions as he explores the monotony of everyday life. There are moments of triumph to temper the melancholy, but there are no big surprises here. Strong songwriting and smart lyrics are balanced with capable musicianship and moments of experimentation. It wouldn’t be accurate to place his lyrics alongside masters like John K. Samson or John Darnielle yet, but at 28 years old Campbell has an excellent grasp on the intricacies of emotion.

If you recognize that “Brothers &” serves as a simple intro to “Cardinals,” No Closer to Heaven is 12 tracks of alternative music with some pop punk and folk tendencies weaved in. There are bonus tracks that can be found out there, but they take away from the completeness of the album. Which is exactly what this is, a complete album with wonderful artwork that tells a story of hopelessness. In a digital age, there are still artists who create entire albums as a piece of art (see Defeater’s Abandoned) and that is exactly what we have here. The songs are individually great, but better as a part of the whole, with common threads of birds and sadness tying it all together. Many of the songs will have a familiar feel, but those that expand their sound are the highlights that elevate this release above the rest of their discography. On “Stained Glass Ceilings” they experiment with emo guitar parts in the hushed beginning, which slowly builds toward an intense breakdown which features letlive.’s Jason Butler adding unexpected gravel throated grit that serves as a brilliant contrast from the melodic majority of the track. On “You in January” the music has a driving power pop sound in the vein of Third Eye Blind, which is interesting partnered with Campbell’s easily identifiable vocal style. There are times when the music reaches anthemic heights with soaring vocals (Palm Reader) and moments of 1960’s harmonies (A Song for Ernest Hemingway). Single “Cigarettes & Saints” is a restrained song that could have fit just as easily on an Aaron West & the Roaring Twenties release. These elements help to inject the music with depth, helping to distinguish it from previous releases.  

Part elegy to a lost friend, part autobiographical account of struggling to cope with depression, the album has an undeniable bleakness that weighs heavy. It is a concept album in the loosest of terms, more accurately a musical discussion of mental illness and the weight of societal expectation in the Western World. There are moments of tenderness found here, but at times the band is at their most aggressive. The balance between chaos and calm threads itself throughout the track list. Some listeners still insist on lazily labelling The Wonder Years a pop punk band, but their music evolved well beyond the stifling limitations of that scene albums ago. The literary approach to the lyrics allows the band to explore themes of death, faith and depression in depth.