DAYTRADER- Twelve Years
This is a weird one. For every moment on Daytrader’s debut full-length that recalls the glory of their early EPs, there’s a clunky verse, energy-sapping chorus, or screeched vocal that sounds like Dexter from The Offspring got drunk and snuck into the recording studio. In fact, where those first releases sounded confident and captivating, this record routinely can’t find the right gear, slipping between styles, unconvincing and difficult to engage with. And it’s not for want of trying, the New York outfit inspire a ton of positive vibes and there’s such desire for this to sound great, it just too often flounders. For example, ‘Deadfriends’ is a truly puzzling way to start an album. An instantly forgettable, wishy-washy plod-along it suffers from too much reverb and too few ideas and stinks of filler. It’s fine, nice, decent maybe, but these aren’t really positive words, not when you want to create art that shakes people or saves lives even. Things click better elsewhere. ‘Skin and Bones’ is still flimsy but a sweet Smashing Pumpkins-esque song, ‘Lost Between The Coasts’ could be prime Further Seems Forever, and ‘Firebreather’ is an attention-grabbing example of what the band do best, a heady mix of 90s emo and intelligent indie with drive and purpose. But it’s not enough to salvage what felt like it could have been a momentous record.