Fill in the Blank is a massively relatable depiction of teenage angst and the very real experience of living with depression. Additionally, there’s a touch of cynical tongue-in-cheek allusions to the confused reactions other people have to this, which only act as an intensifier of alienation and self-hatred. Instrumentally, this track features a giant, powerful riff that lays the groundwork for an intoxicating four minutes of blaring guitars and bombastic drum mixing.

High 8.

Vincent reincorporates the album’s themes in the setting of a party, while the speaker wants to just “go home”. Namely, the social interactions are overwhelming, to the point where the cacophony sadly leaves Will Toledo silenced, and thus the final line. The anger that this setting causes is masterfully portrayed by the instrumental, which takes feedback-heavy guitar arrangements to the next level, while layering vocals on top. This creates an amalgamation of abrasive elements and a beautifully euphoric atmosphere of emotional uproar, as well as empathy for the speaker’s distaste.

Low 9.

Destroyed by Hippie Powers seems like a continuation of the last track as the protagonist admits defeat and leaves as he suggested. Once again, the lyrics are simultaneously sarcastically amusing and candidly saddening; as an example, the carefree allusions to drugs are juxtaposed with overtones of failure and frustration caused by these social settings. Instrumentally, the guitar arrangements and tone are, again, at the centre of attention for this track due to their disruptive distortion in the choruses, but also because of their palatable and groovy riffing during the verses. That being said, Will Toledo also delivers both an intimate and occasionally yelled vocal performance that goes along great with the sentiment of the song, as it does with the production.

Mid 8.

(Joe Gets Kicked Out of School for Using) Drugs With Friends (But Says This Isn’t a Problem) Takes the references to drugs to the next logical step: describing a bad trip. The songwriting also uses this moment to hammer in the self-scorn, fear, and anxiety felt by the protagonist. Instrumentally, this cut is the result of a more rock ballad-y approach, with a nice set of acoustic guitars, electric slide guitar melodies, and leisurely vocals. This is all before the breakdown, which takes every element up a notch for a high-energy finish.

Low 8.

Not What I Needed is probably the most vulnerable track of the record, with angered retorts against the poor advice he’s received, as well as his perceived lack of meaning in life… and porn. On the audible side of things, the first half feels ever so slightly safe and one-dimensional, but the outro made up of repurposed interviews, previous songs, and shouting is fascinating in its atmospheric essence. Moreover, it also fits pristinely with the track’s topics of awkwardness and desperation.

Mid 8.

Drunk Drivers / Killer Whales is a multi-faceted, metaphoric, and somewhat cryptic amalgamation of the album’s topics, arguably making this the most ambitious lyrical undertaking on the album along with “The Ballad of the Costa Concordia” and “Cosmic Hero”. Namely, the Killer Whales are used as metaphors for the detrimental effects captivity can have on animals. This is in turn juxtaposed with negligence in the form of drunk driving, which suggests that this endangering of oneself and others is the result of a similar captivity. Of course, this is rather open to interpretation, but (personally) this all seems to imply that excessive drinking is a result of the misunderstanding of mental health —i.e. depression— as it is done as an act of escapism from one’s internal turmoil and others’ misconstruction and dismissiveness. What’s more, this impeccable songwriting is complemented by the most expressively explosive breakdown and hook of the record; it’s incredibly evocative and euphorically enjoyable. The first half of the track is a sweet precursor with its atmospheric synths and amicable electric guitar arpeggios, but the lung-testing yelling and the walls of guitar distortion in the second half definitely outshine it.

Low 9.

1937 State Park is another heart-wrenchingly relatable track speaking on the negligence with which we sometimes deal with our emotions. The speaker goes to extreme lengths to box up their feelings just for the sake of not burdening others; simultaneously, adding to the self-hatred as they compare themselves to “high school teen dream(s)” and worrying about what legacy will follow their death. Audibly, this cut follows suit with a piercing and energetic composition, heartfelt performances and an absolutely fantastic hook, which is (yet again) wonderfully shoutable. Also, the keyboard solo is a moment that adds a slight comedic touch to the mix because of the imagery of “Death (…) playing his Xylophone ribs”.

Low-Mid 9.

Unforgiving Girl (She’s Not An) is a somewhat cryptic track both about genuine connection and disconnection. There is a distance between the speaker and this girl, but there are also endearing moments like their dancing, and how she’s described as not being unforgiving, as opposed to the world around the protagonist. The instrumental is a simpler and more middling cut, while still delivering enjoyable guitar-accompanied storytelling.

High 7.

Cosmic Hero is an ambitious revisiting of the album’s topics, this time through an infuriated perspective. A multitude of hindering viewpoints and pieces of advice are used to once again evidence the misunderstanding surrounding depression, especially in the context of teenage years. For example, there is a promotion of desensitisation, which is probably what led to more internalised hatred — especially in the face of loneliness and social alienation. All of this climaxes in the chorus, where heaven is used as a karmic and vindictive answer to the blasé attitudes of others. Audibly, this approach of an explosive chorus is paralleled by an electrifying hook that ecstatically sells the anger. Arguably, all of the song’s elements, from the trumpet melodies to the easygoing verses, are implemented to accentuate this fantastic (and massively catchy) outburst of energy.

High 8.

The Ballad of the Costa Concordia is a grandiose and expansive ode to powerlessness. The *Costa Concordia* is a cruise ship that sank in 2012 and it’s used as an extended metaphor for the speaker’s hurt admittance of helplessness and swift failure (since the wreck happened soon after departure). This is mainly explored from the perspective that the protagonist is being sabotaged by their depressive state. An example of this is shown in the noteworthy lyrical gem, the “this sea is too familiar” line. This beautifully contrasts the sudden mistake of the shipwreck with a periodic drowning in monotony. The song eventually builds up to a grand surrender, completely succumbing and letting go of any positive expectations, but this is done so with a faint albeit powerfully compelling hint of accomplishment. This undertaking in songwriting is accompanied by a truly eclectic eleven-and-a-half-minute journey with an applaudable emotional and dynamic range. Although some parts are better than others, even at its worst the track manages to excel in this varied approach of overlapping sections. At its best, on the other hand, it shines brightly with shouted “I give up[s]” and fast-paced rhythm guitar backing the hasty drums arrangement in the mid-to-late parts of the cut.

Mid-High 8.

Connect the Dots (The Saga of Frank Sinatra) speaks of more boisterous times, times of immaturity and self-indulgent dreams and expectations. Eventually, there is a triumphant overcoming of this in the form of the “Fuck off teens” closing line. Sonically, this track is urgent and reckless from the very beginning, an exciting decision that goes along great with the very gritty guitar tones and the aggressive, hurried vocal delivery. The hook is actually the calmest part of the song, though it’s still catchy and enjoyable. All in all, it’s not as touching or compelling because some emotion is traded for this uproar-like approach, though it’s still a fun and energetic moment in the record.

Low 8.

Joe Goes to School acts a fantastic lyrical decision to follow the last song. Once teenage thought is repelled, we are shown the repercussions of taking this decision too far, simultaneously tying back to a previous and recurring theme of the album: the disconnect between adults and teenagers, especially because of a lack of knowledge in dealing with mental health. Moreover, this is quite a calming guitar and voice track to close the album up, as vocal melodies and guitar arrangement make for a short and sweet melancholic ballad.

Mid 8.