by Chris Coplan (@CCoplan)
Most genres are a starting point. It's easy to fall for punk rock, in this instance, and quickly find yourself traipsing toward the realm of crust punk or dark cabaret. In that sense, it's hard to see sub-genres as somehow lesser — they are that beloved thing but magnified with life and context and the sheer messiness of it all. Australia's own Split System have presented their latest album, Vol. 2, as a kind of musical counteragent. By first questioning if our "demands of punk are a little too high... [or] a little too exacting," not to mention talk of primal itches that need scratching, they’ve positioned themselves as a hard-hitting salve for needless wanderlust.
The resulting eleven track LP supports that M.O. to a tee. "The Wheel" may be the most streamlined piece of Aussie punk rock you can lay ears upon. Meanwhile, "Kill Me" is the bouncing, angsty grandchild of bands like The Scientists and Radio Birdman. Is it all good? You bet it is — a sound that draws you into a crowded pit and ignites both hearts and minds as it peels away the needless ephemera of life like so much industrial solvent.
The issue, then, is that if you are anyone who has heard all of this before, and readily explores the "fringes" of punk, Vol. 2 plays mostly like a best-of from your older brother's vinyl collection (assuming your brother is a big rock nerd and/or an Aussie). Again, there's nothing wrong with that (and you'll see just why a touch later), but there's no denying that this kind of straightforwardness, familiarity, and generally bare-bones approach is a shock to the system. Coming back to meat and potatoes punk takes some time. It's a process that means confronting the nature of sub-genres (and the feelings and ideas that foster their development) as well as tackling your own tastes in a world that can’t always leave room for mere fundamentals.
Luckily, Split System do a really great job of supporting their cause as champions of a (seemingly) much-needed punk simplification. It starts with a few basic operational tidbits. Singer Jackson Reid Briggs (who has some damn fine solo releases) has the utterly captivating presence you demand of "true" punks. In "The Blues," he balances abundant preening and generally poignant emoting, which is the trademark of any front-person worth a damn. The rest of the band — which includes Arron Mawson of Stiff Richards and Polute — support Briggs with endless energy and competence. "Dave" captures how their balls-to-the-wall momentum is wildly effective and technically compelling, and "Anything" shows that the best support is either matching or augmenting your crazed frontman.
These are mere drops in the bucket compared to the album's bigger achievements. What makes Vol. 2, and the band in general, a success is that their back-to-basics approach is consistent enough (if not always as maddeningly robust as the band might’ve hoped) to do that thing where music is your friend. In this specific case, Vol. 2 is the weird buddy you met in middle school. Maybe you were freaked out when they first ate a ladybug, but even then you couldn't deny some innate charm. So over the years, this friendship has become one where you accept some eccentricities (like seemingly basic punk rock machinations) as not troublesome or irritating, but signs of a deeper authenticity and power of the personal spirit.
We live in an age where dudes don't want to be genrephobic, and that mentality almost demands our constant exploration across the musical fringes. It's why, for instance, bands like Falling in Reverse speak to people: strip away the theatrics, the costumes, and the flourishes of other genres, and you get metal for people who feel lost in the world. That kind of authenticity and organic status is exactly what Split System are rallying behind, and how they hope to ingratiate themselves in a world where anything "basic" doesn't really exist anymore.
When you view this record through this lens of "simplicity as a statement," you see the full power of Vol. 2. It's our sense of trust in our musical "amigos," and that conscious, on-the-fly evaluation of our relationship to genres and their staples, that imbues this record with its greater significance. It's why "Alone Again" can feel direct in its structure and message (not wanting to be alone but not sure how to fix it) and still uniquely intoxicating and imposing in its delivery. It’s why "The Drain" adds just enough pep and liveliness, without squashing that nihilistic heft, to fully extend a proper loser's anthem about hitting the reset button on life. It helps if the last two songs balance their straightforward-ness with just enough virtuosity to squeeze out the most sensuality and accessibility. Even "End Of The Night" and "Underground" — which are as close to "true" skate punk and hardcore, respectively, as this LP gets — feel extra special because even the most stringent of punks still get to act a dang fool.
It's not that this record is somehow “the one true punk,” or that it's merely good because it’s endlessly real and totally heartfelt (especially since punk like this can often be a little one-note in its emotionality). Rather, the band make decisions to ingratiate themselves near-instantly and maintain a rather unassuming dialogue in their efforts, and that's massively exciting. It's a raw and real LP that also happens to feel like this bit of commentary that you can suss out over beers at the bar. An album that sings of big pains and grand triumphs in a way that you go through all the similar songs in your mental jukebox, and that fosters really potent understandings, heaps of context, and, most importantly, this ability to dissect why punk hits so hard and the billions of good and bad reasons its mutated over the years.
In that way, Split System have made their bare-bones album (and done so successfully) — Vol. 2 doesn't assume a damn thing but rather makes dancing and emoting and over-analyzing stuff the same kind of wild, weird party. Even if they likely just intended the first two, their sheer skill and massive personalities invite that kind of thinking as this natural reaction to their presence on this LP. It’s my hope that this idea of album-as-commentary sticks with you as much as it does with me, and if not, put this on, get sloshed, and dance your arms and legs off.