I am embarrassed to admit that, despite my infatuation with the Format throughout the early 2000s, the late January release of Boycott Heaven slipped under my radar. They tend to float out of my consciousness for solid chunks of time, a plight exacerbated by its 18-year hiatus. Yet the minute the opening chords of classics like “On Your Porch” reenter my psyche, they pull me right into that adolescent triangle of hope, melancholy, and helplessness. The old favorites still hit just as hard, meaning the enticement of a new release rivals that of a mysterious package appearing on my doorstep.
Though the Format were omnipresent in the 2000s indie scene, Boycott Heaven is only their third studio album, following 2003’s Interventions + Lullabies and 2006’s Dog Problems. Regardless of their popularity on millennials’ mixtapes, members Nate Ruess and Sam Means never appeared fixated on the exclusive realm of rock stardom. Their purpose, instead, seemed to be promoting the radical message that it is okay to balk at expectations, to ruminate on feelings and relationships and sadness and promise, and to do so without the overproduction pop music is prone to, relying instead on simple melodies behind catchy vocals.
Following the Format’s 2008 hiatus, Ruess and Means each pursued their own projects. Means released a solo album and co-founded the popular merchandise retailer Hello Merch, while Ruess joined fun. alongside Andrew Dost and Jack Antonoff and became the voice behind anthems “Some Nights”, “We Are Young”, and “Carry On”. Even his work as a featured artist on Pink‘s “Just Give Me a Reason” gained him more widespread recognition than the Format’s most popular singles.
After an ill-fated 2020 tour that was postponed and eventually canceled due to the pandemic, Ruess and Means finally reunited in 2025 and announced their first album in 20 years. The result, Boycott Heaven, is a descent into a kaleidoscope of genres and eras that refuses to conceal the rough edges of the passing years. While Ruess’ vocal range is as theatrical as ever, the album has a heaviness that was lacking in its predecessors. Rife with themes of fate, fame, and religion, Boycott Heaven rebuffs the notion of perfection as a goal, as evidenced by both its subject matter and its rolling exploration of musical boundaries.
“No Gold at the Top” opens the album with a blurry, metallic quality that creates an ambiance of fury. The alt-country track “Holy Roller” evokes old-school Rilo Kiley in its quick couplets and gradually mounting tension, while “Shot in the Dark” could be mistaken for an 1980s hit. “Forever”, the most experimental track, teeters between folk and electronic influences. “Depressed” fuses early 1990s Britpop with psychedelia, naturally flowing into the Weezer dupe “No You Don’t”.
Boycott Heaven finds its footing in “Right Where I Belong”, a classic Format song with a decidedly domestic twist. The light, straightforward styling, straight from Interventions + Lullabies, is a fitting vessel for what is essentially a response to the Format’s woes of decades past. “Right Where I Belong” praises the simple joys of parenting, “waking up sober, brushing teeth, tying shoes”. Whereas Ruess once sang in “If Work Permits” of needing “a warm kiss instead of a cold goodbye,” he now admits, “I traded my voice in shame for a good can of paint / It took my whole life to build this home / But now I’m right where I belong.”
To all those impressionable kids who fell in love with the Format 20-plus years ago, this is both the gut punch and salvation of Boycott Heaven: The harsh truth that contentment can exist nestled within chaos and disillusionment. Two tracks after “Right Where I Belong” arrives the band’s most political song yet, “Leave It Alone (Till the Morning),” which includes the lines “I sat and watched the world explode as they watched you watch the Super Bowl… I’m not proud to be American no more.” The juxtaposition of these sentiments, while devastating on the surface, is obliquely reassuring; amid resentment towards a world spinning out of control, there are fleeting moments of bliss that make it all survivable.
The record’s greatest strength is its sequencing, with each track taking an unexpected left turn that feels cohesive rather than jarring. Boycott Heaven concludes with the Beatles-esque ballad “Back to Life”, which opens with the admission, “Been gone for way too long / Got lost inside the storm / I never meant to say goodbye.” According to AZ Central, the lyrics are an ode to rapper and frequent Ruess collaborator Young Thug following his October 2024 release from jail. However, they hold a double meaning as the closing of the Format’s long-awaited return; although Ruess and Means followed their own paths in the years between albums, they were always destined to come back together.
Boycott Heaven may leave fans who hoped for a more modern sound disappointed. If anything, it settles further into the Format’s retro roots, transcending movements from 1960s pop through 1990s grunge. Still, that’s exactly what makes this departure so fitting. Even at the height of their popularity, the Format have always sidestepped the mainstream, and Boycott Heaven now finds them right where they belong.