Joyce Manor Album Review: Never Hungover Again

If you’ve been following the genre since its inception, I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you that pop punk hasn’t always been the emotionally-charged melting pot that it is today. While classic pop punk bands such as Blink-182 may have occasionally ruminated on the nuances of growing up, they ended up spending most of their time writing songs about alien conspiracies and getting stoned, all the while indulging in some of the most sophomoric humor ever to grace a pair of headphones. Hell, one of the most popular singles to ever bring the genre to mainstream radio is about little more than seeking a cure for boredom in the act of… well, we’re all familiar with Green Day’s “Longview”.

On the other hand, nowadays you’ve got acts like the Front Bottoms begging you to kiss your knuckles before you punch them in the face, Modern Baseball celebrating the simple joy of your crush sitting next to you on the couch, and most recently on Joyce Manor’s third LP Never Hunger Again, Barry Johnson quite literally wearing his heart on his sleeve (or somewhere on his body, the dude never really says specifically where).

In many ways, Joyce Manor are a perfect pop punk band. Relatable, catchy and instantly quotable, their songs are over in the blink of an eye yet paint vivid pictures, offering fresh and clever takes on subjects that have been long-standing staples of the genre such as dysfunctional friendships and small town angst.

Much like on their previous album, 2012’s Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired, the band still thrive on chaos, forsaking anything resembling a traditional introduction to a song in favor of simply propelling their listeners into the tune. The effect can be disorientating; if Never Hungover Again is your first experience with Joyce Manor, you might be forgiven for thinking that you’ve accidentally downloaded a copy of the record that’s missing the first 30 seconds of each MP3. You may initially bemoan the fact that some of your favorite tracks here are too short, but once you learn to appreciate the band’s style for what it is, you’ll realize that they’re just not messing around; the songs may not last long, but literally every moment of them is good. All killer, no filler, to quote a band you may have bumped in middle school.

Front and center of these songs is singer Barry Johnson, who seems to be working harder than ever to fill the shoes of the pop-punk-Morrissey both fans and journalists have hailed him as ever since his band swiped the Smiths’ jangly swagger on “Bride of Usher” two years ago. The parallels are not for nothing: Johnson’s friends may ask how he can be happy when he wears all black, but one only needs to turn to one of the Smith’s underrated b-sides to learn that he probably wears black on the outside because black is how he feels on the inside. Still, nowhere are Johnson’s Moz aspirations more striking than on the record’s closing track, “Heated Swimming Pool”, which finds the singer sharing a strange confession with a friend: “I wish you would’ve died in high school, so you could’ve been somebody’s idol.” Oh Manchester, so much to answer for.

Of course, Joyce Manor make sure to pay tribute to the veterans of the genre that paved their way, as well. It’s hard to hear the backing vocals that close out album highlight “Heart Tattoo” without the nasally whine of Blink-182’s Tom Delonge springing to mind, while the band’s biting sense of ironic humor can only be described as Jawbreaker-esque. Meanwhile, the stoned, summery production of the record harkens back to the basement sounds favored by punks of every era, from classic bands like the Descendents and Circle Jerks, to more modern acts such as the Ergs!.

Essentially, Never Hungover Again has something to offer you no matter what kind of punk rock you enjoy. From Barry Johnson’s clever yet relatable lyrics to the band’s uncompromising ability to whip up an instrumental fury, Joyce Manor have crafted what will undoubtedly be the pop-punk record of the summer, an album you’ll want to start over the second it finishes. Trust me, brevity has nothing to do with it.