Fire in the Radio
Monuments
(Wednesday Records)
When I was a young teen working my
first job, I saved up all of my money in order to buy a big ole Hi-Fi component
stereo system with tower speakers. It
was my pride and joy. Late at night, I
would sit in the dark on a canvas chair in front of the system with my
headphones on. I would stare into
console, as I marveled at the power boost a strong FM signal would give to
music – an added buzz and increased separation of sound. I would lose myself in the music and the
lights that illuminated the otherwise dark components of the stereo creating a
warm glow. It looked like little city
grid in there, or like a little fire burning inside. My family constantly made fun of me for
staring at the stereo with such intent, which could happen at any time and for
hours at a stretch. “Enjoying the view?”
my Mom might quip as she passed by my room.
Though some of those components have broken down or petered out over the
last 35 years, I still have the same basic system. It is still an alter acting as a nightlight
in my darkened bedroom, and the music it plays keeps me alive.
What does all of this have to do with
the new album, Monuments, from
Philadelphia band Fire in the Radio? Other than the fact that their name brought
those memories to the fore, the music does make me feel like a kid again. This is the first I’ve heard of this band,
though it is their third LP, and it is filled with punk inspired guitar
anthems. This is the type of thing that
used to mystify me. Like, why isn’t this
hugely popular? These guys rock! There are chiming power chords, propulsive throbbing
basslines, relentlessly upbeat drumming, and sing along choruses
everywhere. The lyrics are thoughtful
and can draw out all kinds of personal emotional connections. Plus the production is big and bright and
radio ready. Yet, here we are. I found the album via Bandcamp just like most of the other criminally underappreciated
artists on there fighting for an audience.
I do not know anything about Fire in
the Radio and there is no information about them on the record sleeve. To me, it sounds like there are two lead
vocalists, which is always a strength if you ask me, because it creates a nice unforced
variety. The album opens with an instant
favorite “Let’s Get to the Start,” a song about needing to reset after a crippling
disagreement. It reminds me a ton of
early Idlewild’s incredible 100 Broken Windows album, as does the
excellent “Tulare” and the more Remote
Part-ish “This is My Document.” On
the other hand, you’ve got the more difficult (not as straight-ahead), heavier
songs such as “Gravity” and “Breaking,” which hint at Bivouac -era Jawbreaker as
played by a mid-90s Washington DC band, are still infused with ear appealing
choruses. Speaking of Washington DC, the
cranking “Ex-SF” reminds me of Fugazi. Another highlight for me is the wistful “I
Said,” which cruises along like a Chris
McCaughan led Lawrence Arms
heartbreaker. I am a sucker for sparse
lyrics about quiet moments in time that feel emotionally monumental. Which brings me to the closing song “Save Me.” This is exactly the kind of song I was
referring to earlier. This universally
understandable song should be massive!
It is so damn catchy, it rocks, it’s easy to sing along with (and to get
stuck in one’s head), and it is tragically sad in a desperate identifiable way
(“Save me now / save me from the demons I once brought home / I don’t want to
be left alone”).
It has been too long since I’ve had
this kind of punk rock band come into my life, and there is always room. It's energizing and exciting. There's a certain cathartic enjoyment I get
out of loud, emotionally charged upbeat songs that are also tender and, at
times, heartbreaking. It doesn’t hurt
when the bulk of the songs stick with you and repeat over and over in your head
– in a good way. “Wake me up / It’s
time.”
