Give Up The Roast is a column that collides delicious caffeine with wild thrashing a la a bi-monthly coffee and punk album pairing—the perfect combination for perking you up during that midday slump. Here, columnist Shannon Shreibak investigates all of the notes, from fruit rinds and spices to perfect fifths smothered in grinding distortion. So come on all you coffee shop novelists, DIY freaks, and connoisseurs of fine taste—keep your mind here in the GUTR and catch a buzz with us.
For most pop culture freaks and audiophiles, music has an inimitable ability to shoulder a sense of time and place. From the slow ‘n’ low rock jam soundtracking your first torrid makeout in the back of your high school crush’s car, to the ringing melodies of triumph as you toss up your graduation cap, music dog-ears moments of agony and ecstasy throughout the work-in-progress that is a personal narrative.
True to this sensory phenomenon, Hot Water Music’s fifth LP, “Caution,” is a personal sonic landmark erected upon first listen, bleached by summer suns set and worn by the time. This isn’t the first time I’ve delved into the attack on memory that music can wage, but “Caution” has become one of the most recent and vivid examples of the phenomenon, one that imbued clarity in a summer of excess and aimlessness.
After a long week of juggling our respective full-time jobs with a smattering of freelance and part-time gigs, my friend Roy and decided to drink-to-forget at one of our favorite dive bars. As we spilled out the door and cruised down the flickering city streets in his battering ram of an SUV, we shuffled through CD’s littering the floor of the car. I landed on an album adorned with a downtrodden, abstract figure slouched beneath a shrinking ceiling (a Scott Sinclair piece, I later learned).
“Oh yeah, you’ve heard that album before, right,” Roy blithely assumed.
I sheepishly sunk into the worn passenger seat, hesitant to reveal my lack of prowess. “Actually, no. I couldn’t even name you a Hot Water Music song.”
“WHAT.” Roy’s expression stiffened and he slid in the disk with a mechanical efficiency. Chuck Ragan’s brawny growls poured out of the crackly car speakers, soundtracking a hauntingly ordinary summer night.
BEHIND THE CURTAIN (BACKGROUND)
Ever since that impassioned introduction to HWM, I dove into the band’s catalog headfirst, fawning over its enigmatic mix of hardcore, heartland rock and pop inclinations. “Caution”—the follow-up to melodic hardcore smash “A Flight and a Crash,” I later learned—marked a new era of HWM songwriting and stylistic panache.
While the album was crafted as a sonic sequel to preceding albums, it fearlessly sprawled into new sonic territories. Chicago coffee scene newcomer Metric Coffee Co. cranks out the perfect contender for the dynamism and straight-up attacks of HWM—the Bon Vivant Seasonal Blend. Don’t let the darling name fool you—this blend holds its own against even the most scrutinizing of palates.
BRASS TACKS (THE COFFEE)
While these punk torchbearers hail from the Sunshine State (though their music would indicate everything contrary), Hot Water Music’s fierce connection to Chicago is undeniable. From two-night stands at the legendary Metro, to last-minute stints at Fireside Bowl, the Gainesville quartet have carved through the underbelly of Chicago and into the Midwest hardcore lexicon.
Remaining true to the quartet’s affinity for the Second City (and low-key passion for coffee), Metric Coffee’s Bon Vivant is a faultless pairing with “Caution.” The seasonal blend boasts beans sourced from Ethiopia, Kenya and Colombia, creating a harmonious and bold intermingling of flavor notes, not unlike the aural entanglement the propels HWM’s catalog. Greeting tasters with a silky body bristling with tart, fruity notes, the blend eventually tapers off into sweeter notes, bringing bittersweet chocolate and raw sugar to mind—essentially the Ragan-Wollard vocal dynamic in a cup (trust the metaphor, punks).
WHITE NOISE (THE MUSIC)
“Caution” marks a period restraint within the vocal sparring between Chuck Ragan and Chris Wollard, giving Ragan plenty of opportunities to oscillate between gravelly howls and crystalline pop deliveries. Each cut glimmers with more production gloss than ever before, with splintering snares nailing down infectious melodies and boomerang guitar riffs bludgeon through Ragan and Wollard’s call-and-response fits.
While few opening songs can top the cold open of ram-jamming “Remedy,” Hot Water Music maintains a feverish pace throughout the 12-track LP. The foursome romp and roar with the vulnerability of heartland rock and the explosiveness of neo-hardcore.
“Trusty Chords” bashes any notion of HWM falling prey to formulaic loud-and-proud rock jammery, instead focusing on stutter stepping rhythms and Wollard’s gallant bellows. The track explores paranoia through a fascinating blend of oblique lyricisms and inward honesty (“You’ll get it right sometime / You will / I tell myself that every day”).
“Caution” also marks the peak of Jason Black and George Rebelo’s two-man rhythm section’s reign over HWM’s compositions, most notably on the relentless exchange of “Alright for Now.” The bass burrows deep in the mix, while Black hammers out lightning fast fills on “We’ll Say Anything We Want.”
Not unlike that personal listening party Roy and I shared thanks to this album, enveloped by sounds tarnished by time and antiquity, “Caution” continues to rattle the cages of time and memory.
Column by Shannon Shreibak. Go forth and be loud with her on Twitter @ShannonShreibak.
