Balance and Composure’s sophomore album The Things We Think We’re Missing could end up being the quintessential document of the new vanguard of old school alt-rock. In the context of its release year, 2013, this kind of aggressive guitar music actually felt like an alternative to something, and it still does. Its fanbase was too young to be embraced as “indie” (read: college) rock, and it lacked the obvious hit single or image necessary to break satellite radio. It was far too artistically and socially considerate to be aligned with the Warped Tour.
Though alternative rock can no longer claim a nation, bands like B&C thrive in a sizable Twitter, Tumblr, and message board underground, where Nirvana is classic rock, Brand New is modern canon, and Neutral Milk Hotel is still a mandatory rite of passage. It’s easy to figure which bands view this space as a final destination and those who are trying to find a bridge towards the mainstream. If you couldn’t tell where Balance and Composure’s ambitions lie with Light We Made, just know this: they’re labelmates with the 1975 now.
But true to form, their advancement is one that adheres to old school alt-rock ideals. Lead single “Postcard” was a surprisingly demure teaser that nonetheless felt like a big reveal, going against just about every formidable strength Balance and Composure had previously established: the riffs here are clean and hypnotic, where before they would bludgeon you into submission. Jon Simmons’ vocals are cloaked and conversational rather than a charred howl. Compared to “Reflection,” a steamroller that foretold the direction The Things We Think, “Postcard” might as well be a Prius: efficient, stylish, aimed at a more mature consumer.
“Postcard” is virtually unrecognizable as Balance and Composure; it bears more than a passing similarity to Radiohead’s “I Might Be Wrong.” This being 2016 and not 2001, ambitious, young rock bands aren’t really using Radiohead as their North Star (at least not publicly). But for a lot of listeners, a certain era of Radiohead still represents the zenith of alternative rock. Think the late ’90s, maybe half of Amnesiac: a man-machine interface both tech-savvy and tech-wary, while still maintaining the look, feel, and perspective of their angstier early days.
And so, Light We Made isn’t a total rebuild. Aside from a few drum triggers, synth-bass fuzz, and additions to the pedal board, Balance and Composure could play these songs live with their 2013 setup. Simmons gets occasionally chopped, screwed, and Auto-Tuned, texturing vocals that can often lack a personal watermark. More importantly, they underscore the incremental progress of his matured perspective. Simmons still strains to make even the most worn metaphors for physical desire, but B&C manage to create a number of distinct spaces where social anxiety and self-loathing can be tempered with well-meaning amorousness. “Mediocre Love” and “Is It So Much to Adore?” hypnotically churn with startling rhythms, while “Loam” and “Fame” are more inspired takes on the Cure’s latter-day metallurgy.
Balance and Composure are a far more flexible band than they were on The Things We Think We’re Missing, which had one move: repeatedly slamming the listener into Will Yip’s brickwalled production. Yip is back on board and rightfully so, since he oversaw Title Fight’s Hyperview and Turnover’s Peripheral Vision, two of this scene’s most divisive and relatively daring dives into traditional indie rock from 2015. Neither of those bands could completely transmogrify, but the remnants of their putative DNA made each of them stand out—Title Fight’s take on shoegaze had concision and a searing intensity, whereas Turnover’s hybrid of dream-pop guitars and pointed pop-punk lyricism created a legitimately novel hybrid.
The past and present of Balance and Composure can’t manage the same symbiosis. The arresting, trip-hop reverie of opener “Midnight Zone” quickly gives way to nü-bubble grunge singles that are not particularly compelling. Nowhere is the distance between Balance and Composure’s ambitions and abilities more chasmic than on “For a Walk”; it’s not too often you can use the Spawn soundtrack as a reference point, but that’s pretty much their nu-metal/industrial take on the lyrical thrust of Franz Ferdinand’s “Take Me Out.”
A few weeks before Light We Made’s release, the band opened up about a series of terrifying van crashes that caused them to put everything on hold for a year and a half. They had remained silent so as to not draw attention to themselves or offer a juicy narrative that had nothing to do with their music. It’s admirable, and it also speaks to a lack of disclosure that pervades Light We Made. As with The Things We Think, it feels like the sound of a curious band still working out how to make music as distinct as its influences; whether lyrically or sonically, they come across as either unknowable or proudly workmanlike. Strangely, as Simmons makes a French exit on “Afterparty,” he sings, “Let your feelings show, it’s easier than you would ever know.” Yet, judging by Light We Made, it’s much harder than he thinks.
