It takes numbers to craft a movement out of sound. It takes numbers, and it takes throat, calloused fingers, worn out joints, and a sea of voices singing along. It takes numbers, and it takes work. It takes playing basements and community centres as much as it takes stages, and festivals. It takes years of dedication, sincerity, and community. And yet, only a few artists are so honoured as to become synonymous with their era. Since 2000, Silverstein has kept its roots firmly planted in the terrain of post-hardcore. Sixteen years later, the genre is impossible to talk about without mentioningthis seminal group.
Well over a decade of performances, of writing, and recording has afforded the group time to evolve and push forward, and Silverstein have taken the whole scene on this ride with them. To speak about the differences— whether musical, lyrical, or tonal—between When Broken Is Easily Fixed and their latest effort, I Am Alive In Everything I Touch, speaks about the differences in post-hardcore at large then and now. Since the release of When Broken, Silverstein have continued to reimagine their sound, and the genre with it. 2016’s I Am Alive is a monument to their career. The record takes its listener on atour bus driven odyssey that is all too familiar to a group used to packing its life in suitcase and hitting the road. Distant milestones, and the homeward reach help to carve out a concept that could have only been pulled off by a band with such a cultivated relationship with the terrain of North American alternative music. And though the record ends back home in Toronto, ON, you can be sure that the group doesn’t intend to let the dust settle on their suitcases just yet. As they’ve done so many times in the past, Silverstein are hard at work in the studio and on the road this year. Their shows continue to fill rooms with energy and life, and their records continue to reach eager ears. Their music continues to marry aggression and melody in a way that only Silverstein seems able to. And their dedication to their craft is more evident than ever before. Sixteen years and their outlook hasn’t changed: more days on the road, more songs, more work, more fans, more music, more friends. The numbers grow with everything they touch.
Two years before emo/indie rock outfit Free Throw formed in Nashville, the Memphis Grizzlies made national headlines for their “grit and grind.” Some not familiar with basketball may assume this was another phrase describing the team’s tireless work ethic. Journalists and analysts claimed this “grit and grind” was their disruptive defense. A ‘free throw’ is usually given to a player disrupted by defense — so while unintentionally borrowing the ethos of their home state’s NBA franchise, Free Throw went on the offensive.
Consider the band’s signature play: a three-guitar attack which stacks raw immediacy with large-scale aspirations. Sometimes this arrangement is abrasive; other times it’s more nuanced. What connects these two different threads is Cory Castro’s frayed vocals, gaining their power from a violent shout and their confessions from a measured whimper.
Combine that range with a set of lyrical themes that play out like an uneasy three-way phone call and what remains fills speakers with a darkness offset by instrumentals which sway and bend with warm nostalgia.
But what fills most of Free Throw’s golden playbook is a commitment to winning their own way. After strings of DIY touring circuits and an intense love affair with their van, it’s clear to see their blooming, road-tested legacy answers to no one but their enthusiastic audiences. With their live sets packing rooms across the country, not without alcohol and crowd sing-alongs in tow, it seems this grind has paid off so far, with the grit packing their songs with not just unrelenting talent, but the forward-thinking energy to match.
