Spanish Love Songs have consistently navigated the weighty themes of mortality and existential angst, a hallmark of their emo roots. However, on their latest album, No Joy, the band, led by frontman Dylan Slocum, takes a nuanced turn towards embracing life, even amidst the ever-present shadow of death. Instead of succumbing to despair, No Joy is an exploration of “celebratory realism,” a conscious effort to find light and even joy in a world fraught with uncertainty.
For years, Spanish Love Songs have grappled with the question of how to celebrate anything in the face of life’s inherent difficulties. This question permeates No Joy, but it’s approached with a newfound positivity and depth. In “Pendulum,” Slocum contemplates, “We might get what we want, but what good will that do?” acknowledging the looming sense of inevitable disappointment. The easy path would be to surrender to apathy.
Apathy, particularly in the aftermath of global events, is an understandable and pervasive feeling. It’s a mental state that can be difficult to shake. Optimism, in contrast, requires conscious effort. No Joy suggests that intentionally shifting one’s perspective, even slightly, can lead to significant personal transformation. This isn’t a simplistic solution, but this daily act of mental reorientation can make life’s challenges more manageable. This shift in perspective is precisely what Spanish Love Songs have achieved on No Joy, crafting a record that resonates with life affirmation despite its undercurrent of melancholy.
No Joy is, at its core, a love letter to life itself, expressed through anthemic and accessible melodies. The album is direct and unflinching. “Don’t write yourself out of the equation,” Slocum implores on the opening track “Lifers,” even when, as he confesses in “Middle of Nine,” “The voices in your head say you’re worthless… [and] won’t let you go.” Yet, like any genuine love letter, No Joy also acknowledges pain, missed opportunities, and the ever-present fear of the future.
“I’m Gonna Miss Everything” stands out as a profoundly moving vocal performance from Slocum. The lyrics are filled with regret and intrusive thoughts of emptiness, of “slouching into oblivion” and “being swallowed alive.” On the surface, these words paint a bleak picture. However, the song’s driving electro-pop rhythm, reminiscent of The Killers, infuses it with an infectious energy and unwavering hope. The raw emotion in Slocum’s voice, trembling with vulnerability, conveys a powerful sense of release as he repeats the poignant line, “I’m gonna miss everything,” if his time were to end.
Musically, Spanish Love Songs are evolving beyond their emo-pop-punk origins. No Joy breaks through their characteristic somberness with synth-pop infused tracks like “I’m Gonna Miss Everything.” Other songs lean towards heartland rock and even, at times, arena rock anthems with subtle contemporary Christian undertones. This sonic shift might initially surprise longtime fans, potentially causing some apprehension. However, No Joy feels like a seamless and organic progression from their acoustic reinterpretations of Brave Faces Everyone on Brave Faces Etc. The band has refined their sound, achieving a compelling balance of polish and raw emotion.
Some listeners might detect Springsteen-esque nostalgia in the album, citing the galloping acoustic guitars and lyrics addressing isolation in a desolate American landscape. Others might draw comparisons to a more accessible Bleachers. No Joy embodies elements of both, with hints of LCD Soundsystem (“Mutable”) and The National (“Exit Bags”). It’s the sound of a band – including keyboardist Meredith Van Woert, drummer Ruben Duarte, guitarist Kyle McAulay, and bassist Trevor Dietrich – fully committed to each other and choosing to embrace life together. But how does this sonic vibrancy relate to overcoming the fear of death? This brighter musical direction allows a glimmer of light to penetrate the darkness, offering a reason to celebrate life, however fleeting it may be. As Slocum reminds us, “This life ain’t for choosing / There is no second draft” in “Middle of Nine.”
The subsequent line, “There’s no happiness coming,” echoing the album title, seems to contradict the prevailing optimism of No Joy. It initially appears to undermine the album’s hopeful message. However, it actually reinforces it by acknowledging the inherent impossibility of achieving constant happiness in the face of mortality. We shouldn’t, and realistically cannot, aim for complete fearlessness when confronted with our own mortality. Instead, we must actively live alongside this awareness, embracing the inevitable pain it brings. “We have to stay alive out of spite,” Slocum declares in “Marvel,” because “Some days there’s just so much to marvel at / And other days you’re at the bottom of a pit… But we’ll be fine.”
In a chaotic and unpredictable world where our yearning for permanence often goes unfulfilled, No Joy serves as a reminder that, indeed, it likely will. But within this honesty lies a sense of peace and hope. It’s the kind of hope that inspires you to dance or to blast synth-infused heartland rock from your car stereo, banging on the steering wheel with enthusiasm, realizing, “I must live,” even if driven by a sense of defiance.
