There’s a scene in Cartoon Network’s "Adventure Time"—a cartoon that embodies the intersection of interests between seven-year olds and stoners—where the main character, Finn, is frustrated by the old people who tell him he’s too young to know what he’s doing. Undeterred, he yells "Youth culture forever!" as he runs away to try something new. You might consider this when listening to Youth Culture Forever, the sophomore album from Scottish trio PAWS that comes here to both praise and bury youth. Like contemporaries Yuck and Tony Molina, you can pinpoint PAWS’ 90s alt rock influences from a mile away—there’s a bit of Mascis, Malkmus, Cuomo, and the like. But while they spend time recounting the well-worn experiences of being young—the drunkenness, the heartbreak, the drunken heartbreak—they also push aside foolish things in favor of sober observations, giving them gravitas beyond their years.
"Erreur Humaine" is a loud-quiet-loud meditation on what feels like the futility of humanity when dealing with a collapsed relationship; when Philip Taylor sings "Just 22 and I feel like I'm through," he’s a world away from Taylor Swift’s ebullient take on that age milemark. Taylor might remind you of Titus Andronicus’ Patrick Stickles, another guitar hero who’s made a career out of turning feelings of self-loathing into anthems. What ails Taylor are situations that can’t be grappled with until they emerge: dead friends, imploded confidence, hometowns that don’t evoke any fond feelings when you find yourself walking through the streets. A song on 2012's Cokefloat!, "Catherine 1956", paid tribute to a deceased parent; Youth Culture Forever's "Alone" and "YCF" are performed as stripped-down dirges at imaginary funerals for friends and states of mind. As Taylor proclaims, "I’ll have my youth culture forever," you know he knows he won’t.
PAWS have also beefed up their sound since Cokefloat!, which was regarded as a lo-fi record; on Youth Culture Forever, the rhythm section rumbles outward and the guitars are thick and present. "Great Bear" sounds like the animal namechecked in its title, while "War Cry" shakes and sears like an active volcano for nearly 12 minutes, spewing monolithic guitar lines and layers of feedback. The record is largely composed of uptempo singalongs filled with wistful feelings and perfectly timed "whoa oh" harmonies that they’ve picked up from pop-punk. Another element from that genre PAWS have picked up is that it’s more fun to sound happy about how sad you are, as Taylor chants lines like "Sometimes we were forced to accept defeat" as communal bummers.
Youth Culture Forever’s uptempo songs also factor as some of its weakest moments. "Narcissist" castigates someone who can’t stop talking about how hard his life is, and since it's possible that Taylor could be making himself a target here, it's essentially three uninteresting minutes of a singer checking his own privilege. Then there’s "Someone New", which wins points for honesty but overcommits with its thrashing whine. If Youth Culture Forever runs the risk of alienating listeners who aren’t particularly interested in what young people have to say about anything, though, it’s a mark of the album’s endearing success that PAWS don’t seem to care.
