Do Rancid still deliver the anarchistic hijinks on their 10th album?
Alexander Burgess
STACK Writer
Even all these years later, punk rock revivalists Rancid still have a bone to pick with the proverbial ‘new world order.’
Conceivably, it might be because the same societal and political inequalities that existed when the Californians first unleashed their errant discord of anti-establishment anthems to the world in the early '90s have remained unchanged. Or perhaps we can put it down to their hankering for a bit of artistic vigour and creative inspiration in this post-pandemic world.
In either case, the lads are absolutely back with defiant, kick-your-teeth-in vengeance on Tomorrow Never Comes, armed to the hilt with a fresh slate of blistering musicianship, along with lyrical stabs that cut like straight razors. And that is indeed fortuitous for us because it seems like a distant memory when we last heard Rancid enraptured by such insatiable angst – and heartened purpose – in their songwriting.
Though the enhanced studio production on Tomorrow Never Comes may feel a little more refined than we’ve been accustomed to, the songs embody that same boisterous spirit at their core, calling to memory the pithy ferocity which characterised the band’s pre-Indestructible material.
Such is Rancid’s artistry that songs like Mud, Blood, & Gold, title track Tomorrow Never Comes, and Bloody & Violent History come charged with scathing cultural commentary but do so without the preachy, militant hang-ups.
What’s left is just the pure, unadulterated, and uproarious revelry.
They crank up the gears to critical levels on menacing blow-outs Don’t Make Me Do It and Eddie the Butcher, then have you chanting along hook, line and sinker to rambunctious belters New American and Prisoners Song. The underpinning arrangements may sound (deceptively) straightforward at first, but you would be missing the flecks of subtle complexity sprinkled (tastefully) throughout, which showcase the band’s instrumental prowess: just listen to the duel between Matt Freeman’s bass and the lead guitar towards the end of It’s a Road to Righteousness.
On Tomorrow Never Comes, Rancid have crafted a masterstroke that carries a social consciousness, yet is not weighed down by the gravity of its message (or lack thereof?). It may concern itself with the back alley world of the urban downtrodden, but it sparkles with just enough glitz to resonate with those on the other side of the tracks. 2023 album of the year (thus far)!
Tomorrow Never Comes by Rancid drops via Epitaph.
no gods, no masters, only rancid!
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