There’s a widely held misapprehension that one punk equals two punk, equals three punk, four. In other words, that the range of emotion and ability ranges from 0 to 0.1.
Sinking Ships is just the latest example that shows this isn’t the case. They’re a Northwest, Puget Sound band. They’re not Nirvana, (duh) though I get the strong sense they could slow it down and pull it off admirably. Their latest, Disconnecting, to be released tomorrow, July 18, is welcome.
This isn’t three-chord bop (bastards of punk) anymore (not that’s there anything wrong with that). There are brethren and influences here, but they are mercifully wide, from Brahms to Beowulf. There even exists here a certain literal literacy, which causes the schizophrenic need to both jump around and close your eyes to listen to what’s being said. And to remember people you know who are exactly like that.
“The Next Time I Go” features flashes of sliding fret-fireworks, driven drums, and a smirk that simultaneously portrays bitterness and silly humor.
So tonight I’m stepping outside for what feels like the thousandth time / Walking with hands in my pockets, looking down the same old streets / This place can become a part of you.
Decision time, is that a good thing or bad? It’ tale shows a person at a crossroads between lethargy or legitimacy, disconnection or self-deception.
“Ghost Story” has an REM/The Cult/Stone Temple Pilots jangling hybrid of a tuneful introduction, before the band puts its head down into, well, yes, a story.
Held hostage by the past / Held hostage by those days and you want to escape and you want to remain, here / Please don’t let me forget / Living in this disconnect.
“Shadows” is the same, and I could happily quote verse after verse. It features a Manowar/Anthrax heavy metal manic-but-faded crowd chant echoing, “I don’t wanna be lost” and “What could have been?”
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