Thursday

“War All the Time” (Island)

Compare to: Snapcase, Thrice, At the Drive-In

Thursday has declared war with their new album, “War All the Time.”

The band had already earned respect as a world power in the land of melodic hardcore when it unleashed its weapon of mass destruction known as “Full Collapse.”

Two years later, lead singer Geoff Rickly and his administration brings on yet another battle.

Unfortunately for the Thursday party, the heat the band is packing this time does less damage than in the past.

New weaponry has been tested and approved by Island Records, but it fires a mix of hits and misses. If the war analogy in this review has been run into the ground already, then you have an idea of the same unambiguous theme found in “War All the Time.”

The repeated allusions to war could just as easily be seen as a strength, as it was on “Full Collapse.” Both albums play from beginning to end as a thematic story, although the chapters seem to have been placed arbitrarily in this one.

A new trick Thursday pulls out on this album is manipulating the recording fidelity of their instruments while keeping the vocals well-mastered. Presumably, this nice little touch is an effort to add contrast during particular verses.

However, the production quality on the album as a whole is noticeably worse when compared to “Full Collapse.”

During the song “Signals Over the Air,” Rickly goes on a little too long, ranting something about putting “the sex on the radio.”

These are all small criticisms, relative to the amazing package Thursday has put together.

On songs like “Marches and Maneuvers,” Thursday makes it clear the passion hasn’t left, as Rickly sings beautiful metaphors like “If we fly a white flag, under a black and blue sky, will the red sun rise?”

Throughout this raging war, the complicated verses seems to be a mouthful for Rickly, sometimes causing conflict with the beat.

Like the usage of themes, this technique is typical of Thursday.

At the end of the day when the smoke has cleared, Thursday has come through with another victory.

— Andrew Mabe

Story of the Year

“Page Avenue” (Maverick)

Compare to: Recover, H2O, From Autumn to Ashes

Pop-punk. Prog-punk. Hardcore. Emocore. Screamo. No-core. It seems as if every week, a new subgenre is thrown into the littered post-punk scrap heap, making it that much easier for a band to ostracize itself from its fanbase.

But Story of the Year’s Maverick debut, “Page Avenue,” has discovered the secret — if you can’t figure out the flavor of the day, make an album that exploits them all.

The band’s abuse of the system isn’t even well-disguised; it’s an obvious pattern that reads like a road map. For a little trend-friendly hardcore, start with the first track. For misplaced angst and emocore, begin with the second. And if your girlfriend just dumped you and you need to have a good cry, try the third.

This isn’t a joke — the album has been so carefully produced, every third song sounds like a different group, complete with influences from a band popular in each respective style.

“And the Hero Will Drown,” the album’s first track, is a perfect example. Lead singer Dan Marsala’s mixture of upper-tenor singing and eardrum-popping screams, layered over extra-crispy chords, wouldn’t be out of place on Atreyu’s latest album.

But just minutes later, SOTY moves on in hopes of snagging another school of rock in its net. “Until the Day I Die,” the album’s first single, is like radio-ready Glassjaw just begging for attention. With just enough edgy lyrics and sing-song vocals to wedge itself permanently into your brain pan, album producer and Goldfinger frontman John Feldman has found the difficult balance of making mainstream music without killing credibility.

This sonic schizophrenia doesn’t stop there. Tracks like “Swallow the Knife” and “Sidewalks” take the hardcore ballad to new levels. “Anthem of Our Dying Day,” for example, is so similar to The Used’s “Blue and Yellow,” both bands’ mothers would have a tough time telling the difference.

Snorting coke is probably less addictive than this CD. The advantage of an album that can’t make up its mind is that it fills almost every hardcore craving, making it impossible to resist. After a while, however, this same concept also makes it seem heavy-handed on the production side.

— Aaron Ladage

The Destroyed

“Out of Control” (The Destroyed)

Compare to: The Clash, The Jam, Generation X

Some things age well. Fine wine and cheese, as well as “Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols,” come to mind.

To be such an album, the sound must be so original it defines a genre.

Unfortunately for “old school” punk band The Destroyed’s, “Out of Control” is not one of those albums. It doesn’t even come close, even though most of the music was written at about the same time.

On “Out of Control,” original band members Bert Switzer and J.D. Jackson play together for the first time since Jimmy Carter was President.

For fans who still remember who The Destroyed are, the new tracks on this CD show their basic sound hasn’t changed at all in almost 25 years. If the band is looking to attract a new audience, that could be a problem.

“Out of Control” contains both new and “classic” tracks, but it’s hard to tell exactly what is new and what is retro here.

This is despite the fact that many of the newer songs were recorded with new guitarist Henry Kaiser. This was because Jackson, then known as Joe Rainbow, decided to go solo. Again, that’s good for old fans, but bad for the new ones.

Also, the 10 classic Destroyed tracks on “Outta Control,” as well as the 10 new tracks, feature a very raw punk rock sound. The key word being “raw.” This album has the sound and feel of being recorded in someone’s parents’ two-car garage.

As far as who The Destroyed are, they were reportedly Boston’s earliest and wildest punk band back in the ’70s, but the music that is offered on this album doesn’t show it.

The 20 tracks, with titles like “London Town,” “Punk Outlaw” and “Outta Control,” are derivative of other much better punk albums from the same era.

If you want to listen to a good punk album about England, go buy a copy of The Clash’s “London Calling.”

As far as being an American punk band goes, The Destroyed could have learned a lot from The Ramones. With witty lyrics and a driving sound, the New York-based Ramones showed that you didn’t need to have “Anarchy in the U.K.” to be defined as a punk band. You just needed a little bit of the old “Blitzkrieg Bop,” and The Destroyed have failed to capture this feeling.

— Daniel C. Hartman

OutKast

“Speakerboxxx/The Love Below” (Arista)

Compare to: Nappy Roots, Blackalicious, The Pharcyde

Verse 1): Delve back into Stankonia/ From where all funky things come/ Don’t expect some routine music this ain’t no humdrum/ Farther south and underground is where they dig that dirty sound/ A double-disc, two solo albums in one case/ no break-up here so take that worried look from on your face.

“‘People, stop the madness cause me and Dre be OK/ We just split it down the middle so you can see both the visions/ Big Boi is talking cell replication, not division/ We be spittin’ it damn near 10 years, why the fuck would we be quittin’?”

(Hook): Innovative beats, layered like lasagna/ expanding the wide expanse of the extensive hip hop genre/ Pick it up, put it in, feed your mind, it’ll be good on ya.

(Verse 2): Lumbering low frequencies loiter, linger/ “Speakerboxxx” designed for blowin’ up speakers/ Pleasure for audiophiles and bass tweakers/ Listen in your ride if it’s equipped with twelve-inch subs/ ‘Cause “Speakerboxxx” has bump, guaranteed to rattle trunks/ Interludes are numerous entertaining, fresh and humorous/ Supporting cast, the riggings to the mast/ Jigga, Dungeon crew, Ludacris: some new folks blowing/ Still rappin’ with a conscience, listen close to “War” and “Knowing.”

(Hook)

(Verse 3): Switch the disc, swap styles; jazz electric, Dre’s influences range for miles/ If “Speakerboxxx” is for the club/ Where does “The Love Below” fit in?/ Back at home, two folks alone, the soundtrack to their love begins/ Sex, man and woman intertwine in innovation/ “Hey Ya” makes waves of U.S. Kastamania/ Throwback; Beatles, Sullivan, but Andre throws a curve again/ “Stank you smelly much,” say Dre, thank you back, you work the mind/ “Vibrate” will make you think if you hear it, you will find.

(Hook)

(Verse 4): A didactic dialectic, the dichotomy dialogues/ Delivering deliciously the duo/ Unclassifiably unequivocal, eclectic/ “Speakerboxxx,” “The Love Below,” the new Outkast epic/ The masters of allusions/ One can only hope to mimic/ Young Jedi want to learn the force so you can Luke and Han it/ Cop a second copy of the album, you can bronze it.

— James McKenzie