Tigers Jaw are one of the key bands that put emo back on my radar in the early 2010s. For a while, I thought I had outgrown the genre, but hearing “Hum” from their release Charmer hit me hard. Its mix of melody and melancholy was irresistible to me. I leaned heavily on their subsequent releases for emotional support during the next several challenging years of my life, so they will always hold a place in my heart. They are reliably great, delivering a potent mix of emotionally–charged lyrics and catchy melodies, and Lost on You is another rewarding collection of tracks straight out of the Tigers Jaw playbook, which is always a welcome return.
Instead of a slow burn that builds to an early emotional high point, Lost on You’s opener “It’s ok” is a plaintive, introspective quickie that Ben Walsh and Brianna Collins lift with their harmonies. Next up is “Primary Colors”, which delivers a quiet-to-loud dynamic that is as satisfying as anything in their catalog, with an atmospheric outro that showcases how Collins’ keys have always lifted the group above their peers.
One of the best aspects of Tigers Jaw has always been the way Walsh and Collins play off each other, but they are also strong on their own. Collins really shines on “Anxious Blade”, one of the highlights on the record, with her patented delivery. “Ghost” is a classic Walsh vocal performance, delivering everything that makes Tigers Jaw so compelling. “Light Leaks Through” is endlessly catchy and replayable, as is the title track, which closes the record and insists that you just keep on listening.
Longtime producer Will Yip always makes Tigers Jaw sound great, and this is perhaps his best work with the band. Everything is just a little more immediate, a little punchier. Early single “My Head Is Like a Sinking Stone” signaled that they weren’t going to reinvent themselves, and there was no need for that, but Yip’s production makes the song hit hard.
They do stretch a little on songs like “Baptized on a Redwood Drive” and “BREEZER”, and while these stretches aren’t as successful as the ones on I Won’t Care How You Remember Me, they are still solid tracks. This time out, the driving, urgent tracks are the ones that deliver that emotional punch and catharsis that I crave from Tigers Jaw, and that’s no knock; it’s just a band delivering what they do best. “Staring at Empty Faces” is the most successful experiment here, with a powerful, sad riff kicking off the song, Collins’ haunting vocals carrying it, and Walsh providing some welcome balance. It’s one of the highlights on the record, a sullen, towering track.
Lyrically, Tigers Jaw are still interrogating life’s joys and challenges, as well as the shifting perspectives that come with the passage of time. They can always be counted on for a handful of plain-spoken, gutting lines, and the winner and thesis statement comes from Collins this time out: “I understand it all now / It’s not supposed to make sense.” At one point in my life, I thought I would outgrow emo, but it’s been so heartening to find bands like Tigers Jaw navigating the challenges and joys of adulthood and writing damn good songs that deliver the rush that drew me to the genre in the first place.