Balance and Composure

With You in Spirit (2024)

RENALDO69

When the post-hardcore wave hit in the 2000s and swelled to the mid-2010s, Pennsylvania's Balance and Composure made quite a name. They came as part of an alt-grunge era; accessible, emo, and also, laced with dynamic melodies that (in my opinion) should have blown up bigger on radio and in the age of streaming. Well, they're back with, as the kids say, bangers. It comes due to With You in Spirit, which is as dense, nuanced, and catchy as one could have hoped for -- all strewn into the elements of old that diehards latched onto in the first place.

Now, BC has been polarizing, but not in a bad way. Records like Separation and The Things We Think We're Missing were edgy, loud, and really felt like a mix of Sunny Day Real Estate, Nirvana, Braid and Title Fight. When weighed against bands like Sainthood Reps and Citizen, BC definitely felt like the gold bar. However, 2016's Light We Made found them experimenting more with their collective art: electric, disco, pop and dance. Some loyalists didn't take to it. But after a breakup in 2019 and a reunion in 2023's Too Quick to Forgive 7", it seemed like they found how to keep an even keel.

This full-length confirms it. It pays homage to the louder vintage songs like "Separation," "Quake," and "More to Me," while keeping some slow burns along the lines of "Echo." When it comes to balance, "any means" is a fine example of how they have refined to a more post-punk sound. When it comes to letting loose, or a full send, "believe the hype" is where it's at.

These all play on the soft-to-explosive aura the band loves conjuring up. Admittedly, songs like "sorrow machine" that are angrier feel like a direction best to explore down the line. That said, with Will Yip back on production, the lush rhythms work, flowing at times like NIN. Bassist Matt Warner adds more gurgly drops here and there to full that mini-industrial layer. Of course, vocalist Jon Simmons is peak Jon, guitarists Andy Slaymaker and Erik Petersen have a magical interplay, and new drummer Dennis Wilson illustrates how simplicity works. To the latter, sometimes, it does come off like a drum machine, so I think a bit more raw, unrefined and a less-polished veneer might have helped in that case. From what I heard live, though, it's a minor issue.

Moving on, the initial acoustic vibe of "lead foot" and the drive of "a little of myself" hew closer to the 2023 7" the most. It's all about melding genres and doing it effortlessly. BC accomplishes just that with this sonic shift. The lyrics also signify growth and maturity. From the cover, where Simmons snaps kids in his family playing, to accepting mortality during the pandemic, the theme of unity is apparent in most songs. It's very much a novel about love, missing bandmates, and wanting to create art in a world that was worse for the wear recently.

Not that much has recovered or changed, but BC elucidates these trials, travails and tribulations quite surreptitiously. And ambitiously at that as they evolve. Each note and line feels more purposeful than their younger, brash days, which I really enjoyed. But as I grow older, this record sits with me at just the right time. Would I have dug it years ago? Maybe not. But now, it's pensive and hits the right notes personally. Ultimately, this is indeed BC at its most contemplative, and when judged against their body of work, it feels like their best since Separation. A tall order but a challenge they came ready for.