Pressing Concerns: Bad Moves, ‘Wearing Out the Refrain’

Release date: September 13^th
Record label: Don Giovanni
Genre: Power pop, pop punk
Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital

Washington D.C. power quartet Bad Moves made one memorable first impression back in 2018 with Tell No One, which still stands as one of the best punk rock debut LPs in recent memory a half-dozen years later. Their sophomore album, Untenable, followed less than two years later and kept things fresh with a palpably darker sound but without letting up on the the most important aspects of Bad Moves–massive, catchy power pop carried evenly by all four members of the band (guitarists Katie Park and David Combs, bassist Emma Cleveland, drummer Daoud Tyler-Ameen). Even though the gap between records was twice as long this time, the third Bad Moves LP hasn’t wavered as one of my most anticipated albums of the year. Part of that might be because Combs’ Dim Wizard solo project, whose two one-off singles last year served as a reminder of the brilliance he’s been a part of in the past, but there’s also just something unique about Bad Moves’ take on boisterous, rambunctious guitar pop music. In the intervening years, there have been several quite good records by bands using more or less the same formula (Martha, Teenage Halloween, Jeff Rosenstock), but nobody can quite match their ability to take on two separate ambitious muses (heady, whip-smart political and cultural observations and even analysis for one, and firecracker, all-in, hook-laden power pop for the other) and smash them together so effortlessly.

At their best, Bad Moves are a walking, talking, harmonizing example of how pop music can be jam-packed with meaning and intent without losing any other part of itself in the process–and Wearing Out the Refrain is Bad Moves at their best. Part of the thrill of Untenable is hearing Bad Moves swim upstream and still create something distinctly “them”–on their latest, the quartet make the opposite choice, leaning in and capturing the moment the rollercoaster starts gaining downhill momentum. That’s “A Drowning Confession”’s music you hear, an opening track that takes a page from the book of “Change Your Mind” from Tell No One but ups the ante with dramatic synths and ticking-time-bomb vibes. Wearing Out the Refrain lives up to its name as the hits keep coming and the group steamrolls forward–I’ve already written about “Hallelujah” when it was released as a single, but I want to reiterate that every time I’m listening to it, I’m convinced that it’s the best song of the year, and then some. It’s the catchiest thing they’ve ever done, and while the subject matter would’ve gotten an “I don’t know, man” from me in a vacuum, it sounds stronger and stronger every time I take it in (this is why I’m not in the band Bad Moves, I suppose). We (or, maybe, just me) take the hypocrisy of the American conservative movement for a given these days, but the moment that one realizes that not only are they completely devoid of virtue and hungry only for power, but that they do and are so murderously, and that you may indeed be a target, is a powerful and fucked moment indeed. “Hallelujah” captures that moment, and finds joyous rock and roll at the other side.

There are two songs on Wearing Out the Refrain that clock in at under two minutes, and they’re two of the best songs on the album. The first one is “I Know I Know”, which has the unenviable task of following up “Hallelujah” and takes the “just don’t look down” route straight ahead by speeding through one long, continuous hook that doesn’t allow for a moment’s peace before crossing the finish line. The other one is “Sorry That I’m Not Better”, which follows up “New Year’s Reprieve” (another one I’ve already written about, another one worth underscoring that it’s still really good) and takes a bit of a different route. The opening to the track, with just the guitar and vocals, underscores the harsh self-reflection that’s started by the title and only continues in the song’s lyrics. “Sorry That I’m Not Better” kicks into gear eventually because we’re still in the middle of the Bad Moves album, a whirlwind instrumental soundtracking “It’s always unsatisfying / But you know that I’m trying, I’m trying”; its triumphant uncertainty mirrors the blunt end-of-year reflections of the song before it. 

If you liked the darker, heavier undertones of Untenable, I’d direct your attention to the final three tracks of Wearing Out the Refrain–I don’t think the refrains are properly “worn out” by this point, but that doesn’t stop Bad Moves from adding to the mix with a pair of five-plus minute songs and a “rocking out” dial that’s been conspicuously turned up. “The Undertow” is Bad Moves’ own personal wall of sound, threatening to sweep us all under but never losing the power pop at the core of the wave, while “A Lapse in the Emptiness” is one of the most dynamic songs on the record, mixing delicacy with some inspired guitarwork. And it all comes to a head with “Days Don’t Quit”, in which Bad Moves turn into something else entirely: a measured, inching-forward alt-rock group. I’ve been sitting with this one for a bit–to me, it sounds like a ghost, like a chilling out-of-body experience from a band that’s used to situating themselves right in the middle of the moment. There’s something about Bad Moves sounding unmoored that’s very affecting–even the inevitable big-rock-music finish to the track only serves to further obscure what to make of the song.

One can’t fault any of the choices for singles for this record–I didn’t even mention the Sugar-esque hit-by-a-truck power pop of “Outta My Head”, but that’s a great one, too–but if I’d have to choose one song to best capture Wearing Out the Refrain, it’d be the superb album track “Eviction Party”. “I’m not gonna lie, it socked me right between the eyes,” the band sing in the first verse, a relatively restrained piece of theatrical post-punk-pop compared to the twin galloping tunes that came before it. Like a lot of Wearing Out the Refrain, it’s unflinching in its engagement with the world around it (this is a song called “Eviction Party”), and like a lot of the album, it’s ambivalent about what it all means–it doesn’t give into the darkness, but nor does it provide you, the listener, with a clear way out. “Press your face up to the 8-track and breathe one precious breath at a time,” is how Bad Moves ramp up to the chorus, and then: “I close my eyes and chase the dread with something saccharine and sweet / Jack and coke ice in my head / A cool and carbonated heat”. It is, once again, the sound of a band right in the middle of things. One could note how the climax of “Eviction Party” is explicit escapism, surrounded on all sides by a much harsher reality. Or you could see the explosion of sensations in the refrain as proof that this “escape” is just as much reality as the eviction, if not more so–the compilation of perceptions that “reality” is, anyway. As the band says, it’s a two-part story. (Bandcamp link)