Review: The Sidekicks - Runners in the Nerved World
By Zack Baker, Editorial Director
[Epitaph; 2015]
Rating: 8/10
Key Tracks: "The Kid Who Broke His Wrist," "Deer," "Everything In Twos"
Cleveland outfit The Sidekicks took everyone by surprise with their latest full-length, Runners In The Nerved World. For a band that caught attention through the loud, carefree tunes that made up its 2012 album Awkward Breeds, the sudden transition to a completely indie-pop sound came as a shock to many of their fans.
The sudden "Band Of Horses-ification" of the group's music wasn't an easy change to work through. But once you get over the mental barrier of "This isn't The Sidekicks that I loved!" it's not hard to recognize The Sidekicks' latest full-length as their best yet.
The hooks are catchier and the instrumentals are incredibly easy to bob your head to, but that ever-present layer of self-doubt and deprecation are spread overwhelmingly throughout the album. Lead vocalist and guitarist Steve Ciolek may bury his insecurities under an omnipresent barrage of surf vibes and sunshine harmonies, but they're no less present--if not even more overbearing--than any of the group's previous work once you start paying attention.
Sure, you may be able to jam this album in the car with your parents but as soon as they read into the lyrics they'll be questioning your personal well being.
While the "Everything In Twos" instrumental is upbeat to a fault, Ciolek's lyrics spin a much deeper tale. There's a staggering number of lines that reference the singer's personal failures in the verses, but nothing hits harder than his delivery of, "I can't count the ways / I don't feel fine," to close out each hook. This dual nature is something Runners In The Nerved World pulls off constantly and effortlessly. Even when The Sidekicks seem to be at their most cheery and pop-influenced, Ciolek is still draping heavy lyrics over the shimmering melodies.
Take "The Kid Who Broke His Wrist." The song lands at the end of the album's opening frenzy, just before the tempo spirals down in the dark and forlorn themes of "Pet." But "Kid" maintains an upbeat demeanor once it escapes the hazy intro segment, underlined with the idea that "Cemeteries don't seem the same since / Summer had her hands on my ribs." The song references the writing of later-track "Summer Brings You Closer To Satan" by name, and confides to the listener just how personal Ciolek’s concepts are.
Between the foreboding string arrangement at the outset of "Hell Is Warm" and the barebones closing-confessional from track four of, "The kid who broke his wrist / Couldn't use it to make a fist / Couldn't use it to cover up his marks / His broken heart / Or really much of anything," you can't make it through the opening 12 minutes of this album without understanding what The Sidekicks are reaching for.
"Deer" resides happily in the back half of the album, content to merely be the wake up call for listeners that may have dozed off during the comparatively-slower grooves of "Pet" and didn't manage to kick awake during the energetic and self-destructive "Blissfield, MI."
The rollicking melody of "Deer" is just about as bright as Runners In The Nerved World gets, and the band never pulls off as convincing of a Band of Horses impersonation anywhere else. On the surface, the song sounds like little more than a heartfelt tribute to someone which Ciolek has found himself romantically entangled.
As with the rest of the album, carefully scanning the lyrics presents another story. Ciolek repeats, "Am I the one in the headlights / Or on the side of the road?" While his delivery is upbeat, his inability to resolve his status as either the living focus or the long-dead afterthought plays to the instability that comes with budding romances.
"Summer Brings You Closer To Satan" launches itself into the album with a pounding, Strokes-esque bassline. Ciolek channels his inner Brian Wilson-highs for the delivery of crippling lines over apparently cheery melodies. The depression and anxiety-induced harmonized yelp of, "And maybe if this bed could talk / I think it'd say to get the fuck off," and the utterly downtrodden alcoholic chant of, "We're just like a mirage / Find drink and then we're long gone," hammer home the dichotomy between what Ciolek is feeling and what the album's melodies are presenting at face-value.
Runners In The Nerved World does drag in its back half, with tracks like "Century Schoolbook Grown-Ups" and "Spinning Seat" occupying little more than auditory filler slots on the tracklist. Both songs are alright, but among the other killer cuts on this album they just don't stand out.
Although this all seems incredibly depressing, the blend between the album's desperate lyrics and glimmering instrumentals makes for an endlessly fascinating album from these Ohio DIY stalwarts. Runners In The Nerved World is an album that masterfully blends every buried insecurity with its respective eager high.
