Living With Records: May 2025 (Sleep Token, Pup, Arms Length)

Plus Friendship and live reviews of The Wonder Years & Charli XCX.

May has been very busy, and it’s not about to slow down. As a commitment to myself, I’m going to keep on churning out the album reviews, but I’m about to get a lot busier in June and July, so if there’s a quality dip. That’s why.

Friendship – Caveman Wakes Up

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Some breakup records focus on pain, some focus on longing, some are self reflective, but I think the underlying theme is often loneliness. Breakup albums that emphasize the loneliness usually are what speak to me the most, because in my years of heartbreak, I’ve often found that that’s the emotion that feels the most true. Philadelphia indie rockers Friendship lay it all out there on their latest album Caveman Wakes Up, their second release on Merge Records.

As the album revolves mostly around vocalist Dan Wriggins’ breakup, he tends to spiral out as he goes through the motions that we all do after a breakup. A song like “Betty Ford” perfectly exemplifies how sometimes something as small as what you’re watching on TV can turn you into a crying mess. One of the standout tracks “Wildwood in January” touches on some of the more depressing elements of a breakup, like how you can sometimes convince yourself that the relationship will return and things will go back to the way they were.

Of course, there are plenty of songs that touch on more traditional themes, like “Free Association,” which is taking an inventory of places you could’ve been better, or “Tree of Heaven,” where you’re simply missing what’s lost. These are mostly delivered over sparing instrumentals, which set an overcast, bluesy tone over the band’s country sound.

While I’ve only skimmed Friendship’s other work, I do feel that Wriggins’ voice is perfect for this style of record. He doesn’t have a particularly pretty voice, but you can hear that he’s struggling with his feelings throughout the album. He sounds like he’s beaten down by the mess that’s been made, and he’s trying to find his peace with it through the sadness and anger. One of his best vocal performances is on “Resident Evil,” where he doesn’t even recognize the new roommate playing video games.

Breakups are nasty things, and you’re left feeling cold, dejected, and alone. You may wake up every day feeling like Rip Van Winkle, and Caveman Wakes Up expertly encapsulates that lost confusion with a record that will play you in circles.

Arm’s Length – There’s a Whole World Out There

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There are two types of emo songs that I love: songs that feel like you’re shaking a friend and trying to get them to snap out of a depressive episode and songs that feel like you’re being shook. I’ve fluctuated between those two songs over the years, whether I’ve felt my mental health has been strong or I’m simply letting the waves of depression wash over me. On their magnificent sophomore album There’s a Whole World Out There, Arm’s Length have an urgency to them, which somehow feels like both.

Since their EP Everything Nice, the Canadian band have established themselves as one of emo’s next guard. While their debut Never Before Seen, Never Again Found had promise, Arm’s Length is more fully realized on this record. Instrumentally, they’ve included Noah Kahan-like banjoes throughout, but they’re most noticeable on the single “You Ominously End.” They’ve also rounded out a few tracks like “Early Onset” with orchestration to give them a sense of grandeur. Above all else, the songs are catchy. I find phrases like “Romanticize the past for fucking once” or “When I swear on my life, we both know that the stakes aren’t high” getting stuck in my mouth.

Ultimately, there’s a lot of drawing lines and trying to reassess relationships throughout the album, acknowledging how mental health ultimately affects everything. “You Ominously End” has echoes of The Hotelier’s “Your Deep Rest,” but it’s ultimately, a proud song about trying to comfort someone struggling. Still, there’s the burden that can come with those friendships, rolling someone onto their side or ultimately breaking bonds. Ultimately, time makes us lose everything. We can lose our sense of self, our friends can lose the sense of who we are, and ultimately, you may not be able to find your old house amid all the strip malls. “You used to know me so well, I tell you, ‘I’m still myself. Time’s just run it’s course,” Steinberg sings on the standout song “Palinopsia.”

Still, depression, growing up, feeling lost. These are all par for the course for an emo band. Don’t get me wrong, Arm’s Length are damn good at covering these themes in a way that I haven’t felt that some of their peers have learned yet. Still, what I’ve found makes them stand out is that they’ve branched into subjects that I haven’t heard a major band in the genre cover, like eating disorders on “The Weight” or Alzheimer’s, which is the record’s other major throughline. “Early Onset” tackles this most directly, covering the complicated feelings you have while trying to be there for someone while being upset as they struggle with the disease. There are echoes of it throughout songs like “Halley” and closing epic “Morning Person.”

Many of the emo bands that I came of age with are now elder statesmen for a scene that they’ve crafted. For a few years, I did believe that maybe I would move away from the genre, simply sticking with the bands that I cut my teeth on and not keep up with the new bands. Then bands like Hot Mulligan arise or a song like “Tarot Cards” gets released, and I remember that I am indeed a lifer. Arm’s Length is the first band that really feels like I’m fully enveloped by their sound. I am excited for them to lead the charge for the genre.

Scene Report: The Wonder Years at Warsaw (5/18/25)