If it wasn’t for their youth, then Citizen might’ve lost any association with emo a decade ago. The band never lost touch with their emotions, but while their hearts are still in Ohio, they’ve matured differently than the scene. Whether experimenting with dance-punk, garage rock or heavy shoegaze well before it was trendy, with each album, they’ve flashed enormous potential. Now, on their sixth LP, everything comes together. By reflecting on their past, Halcyon Blues shines like no one else.
Halcyon Blues represents the very best of Citizen. Though uncertain about its romantic prospects, “Good Fortune” confidently pairs the group’s aggressive post-punk with their melancholic synthpop side. Personally, the album would score even higher if the fluffy pop-rock of Calling the Dogs was shaved completely. I prefer the leaner, meaner alt-rock that’s been sorely missing since As You Please. Early highlight “I Can See You From Here” closes the distance in a relationship with jet speed, powered by jumbo-sized drums and aerodynamic riffing. But no matter your favorite color of Citizen, Halcyon Blues will please fans of all stripes. Rather than keep them separate, each phase of the band is distilled into every song. “Either Way” even picks a bouquet of wild blues from frontman Mat Kerekes’ solo venture.
When Citizen color way outside emo’s boundary line, Halcyon Blues burns impossibly bright. “Always the Last One to Leave” starts innocently enough. “Last night you snuck through my window / We fell asleep with our clothes on”. Blanketed with reverb, Kerekes sings over a warm bed of piano, but as reality sets in, somewhere amidst the routine, so too does disillusion. Strings swell beneath the surface, straining the cracks in the foundation, until the fantasy collapses inside the same glittering black hole that consumes lovers of Disintegration. That a fourth-wave emo band can channel the Cure at the peak of their sadboi superpowers is extraordinary, especially when, two songs later, “Matador” locks horns with the ghost of Death Grips.
By swinging for the fences, Citizen are more prone to strike out. Even with Speed flutist Jem Siow pinch-hitting, batting the album’s slowest song third is risky. The tracklist could use another big bopper, but that doesn’t prevent the band from connecting at a career-best rate—credit good personnel. Once recording wrapped at Kerekes’ home studio, Halcyon Blues was handed to a crack mixing and mastering team. Tom Lorde-Alge and Ted Jensen won Grammys for Steve Winwood, Santana and Norah Jones, so it’s no wonder this album sounds like a million bucks.
“Is It In My Brain” grooves as if transmitted from the Mercury Lounge circa 2001. Indie sleaze looks sharp on guitarists Mason Mercer and Nick Hamm. On occasion, brother Eric Hamm steals the spotlight with a goth night bass line, though it’s Ben Russin, of Title Fight fame, who benefits most from the certified platinum production. Before it can wisp away amidst a breakup’s hazy aftermath, he keeps the title track grounded with emo’s version of the drum fill from “Higher Love”.
What’s funny is that Halcyon Blues, while a successful culmination of Citizen‘s career to this point, least resembles the one album that fans remember most. Granted, that they no longer sound like their younger, grungier selves is far from a new development, but Youth still influences their new album. Before their 10th anniversary tour in 2023, Kerekes, who turned 32 this year, considered leaving the band.
While the familiar faces that greeted him from the crowd renewed his commitment, here, his lyrics are guided by uncertainty over the near future. Over and again, no matter how elusive a particular line gets, he’s faced with a question that everyone in their 30s, a band, or any committed relationship must answer. “Do you feel happy?” “Are we ever going to learn?” “How many times do we have to be hurt before we get it right?”
I have also questioned my relationship to Citizen. Their first three albums are personal favorites of mine, but the last two failed to impress me. My guard was raised going into Halcyon Blues. Then I heard the record’s lead single. If you haven’t heard “Highs and Lows”, imagine if New Order had transformed into a hardcore band. By comparison, “Anne”, which has the misfortune of following in its 2 step, ends the album with a letdown. Its mild kiss-off just makes me go back and listen all the way through so “Highs and Lows” can electrify me all over again. The song takes Citizen’s recognizable traits—righteous anger, bursts of melody, an undeniable chorus—and, miraculously, recreates them into a Hulk-smashing, new wave jangle that not only sounds like nothing they’ve done before but unlike anyone else.
“Give it to me straight”, Kerekes barks. Okay, I will. Halcyon Days reveals what Citizen have always been: one of emo’s defining bands.