Life sucks. Origami Angel use this indisputable fact as justification not to take it so seriously. Gami Gang, the double LP that the Washington, D.C. emo-punk duo completed during the pandemic, is an ambitious ode to making the best of unfathomable doom. “This world is such a dead end/I know we’ll make it perfect while we still can,” vocalist/guitarist Ryland Heagy sings on “/trust.” Across Gami Gang—titled after fans’ social media Bat-Signal—Heagy and drummer Pat Doherty capture that ambition by way of expansive emo-pop embellished with screamo, post-rock, and electronic experimentation.
Like their contemporaries Dogleg or Home Is Where, Origami Angel are products of a recent crop of emo bands whose style is more in line with Joyce Manor or Jeff Rosenstock circa WORRY. At its best, Gami Gang feels limitless. When he was first learning guitar, Heagy took lessons from metalheads, whose techniques trickle down to much of Origami Angel’s output; “Bed Bath & Batman Beyond” is spring-loaded with finger-tapping, while “Self-Destruct” opens with ear-splitting power chords atop double-bass drums. Paired with Origami Angel’s lighthearted humor and penchant for twinkly, mathy elements, Gami Gang feels daring and lively rather than flat-out brutal.
Origami Angel have developed their sound beyond the skate-punk of their 2019 breakthrough Somewhere City. But they still have their moments of adolescent woe, like reminiscing about eating Taco Bell and binge-watching Pokémon with a crush on “Caught in the Moment” or coming to terms with cystic acne on “Neutrogena Spektor.” Some of Gami Gang’s more innocuous subject matter borders on cutesy, but their wisdom pokes through elsewhere: “Noah Fence” flips a memory of politely rejecting a door-to-door evangelical into a metaphor for affection. “They keep telling me ’bout heaven, it sounds a lot like when I’m with you,” Heagy sings. “If I could write a book about you, maybe they would see exactly why you mean the world to me.” This heartfelt allegory is a highlight of Gami Gang, and the album could use more like it.
The majority of Gami Gang’s first half is wistful and longing, as if to suggest that love is the key to withstanding life’s turmoil. The latter portion is distinctly darker. “Blanket Statement” unfolds the internal monologues of depression, and the epic closer “gg” confronts stagnation: “I’m incapable of change; you are in a constant state of flux,” Heagy sings. On “Footloose Cannonball Brothers,” he calls out a materialistic antagonist’s attempts at racking up online clout: “When you press send, everybody is the victim.” Gami Gang’s weak points can feel a little green and trifling. But in the right state of mind, these guileless moments strike as nostalgic rather than outgrown; who among us hasn’t indulged in a love interest’s favorite TV show only for it to become our own go-to?
Gami Gang anticipates the worst, but always keeps existential dread at arm’s length; all lazy days on the couch must come to an end, and former flames might barely recognize you on the street. Maybe the messages are obvious, but in the context of the album, they resonate like advice from a trusted friend. When Heagy sings, “I can’t stop smiling, that’s so unlike me,” he’s speaking for people who feel just the same way.
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