Crack Cloud are still here, still taking strides, descending a staircase that “has no steps for feet”, according to the trainwreck realities of Safe Room. Amid drudging, discordant acoustic guitars that march with busted knees, Zach Choy’s vocal take like a walking bassline leads to the Canadian art collective’s most resonant long stare in the mirror – “did you really think it would go away?”.
The group, in all its Calgary-stampeding glory, very much remains the art collective it initiated as in 2015. On Peace and Purpose, Crack Cloud is hardly even set on a genre, its mere punk backbone giving the album a London Calling-esque ‘anything goes’ aura.
Crack Cloud also remains the group of Samaritans it initiated as, fighting the good fight, facing scary necessities – namely illness; mental, physical – in hopes of finding a better next chapter. Following Safe Room’s decision to move from one’s comfort zone, the ensuing fourteen-track offering combines – mostly – smooth, focussed songwriting (and musicianship, for that matter) with the sort of sincerity exclusive to a tight-knit bunch of recovering addicts.
These are the screams one must make whilst riding the emotional rollercoaster before obtaining a desired rest; the panic attack of Pick Apart, which belts its title before taking heavy breaths, guided by gloomy basslines as we study what ails us; Marathon of Hope’s lamenting of terminal illness, a wallop of sympathy that begs the rest of us to find perspective, accompanied by late Clash balladry and a lovely bit of antique-y ‘80s keyboard.
That sense of nostalgia pays a few bills; the McCartney bounce of Phantom Limb; Stones-esque Reunion, which battles with the intrusive voices of one’s past whilst attempting reconciliation. Are we even due reconciliation? The doom-and-gloom of Thoughts on My Faith appears doubtful, as does the analogue horror of Eris on the Run.
But Peace and Purpose accepts the fact that we’re all somebody’s unwanted. The album does confront the fact; Not the Same Thing screams “YOU DON’T LIKE TO SHARE YOUR NEIGHBOURHOOD WITH REF-YU-JEEEEZ” amid snazzily clean fuzz as cheeky as said confronter. But the album simultaneously treats the scariness of other people’s thoughts as something we can rise above. Shut the Fuck Up’s mission statement is ‘don’t let criticism get you down’, and its classically cutting guitar riff with frizzing distortion, and new wave melodies are here to help out.
“Sticks and stones and vultures wouldn’t block our only path”, declares Red House, which collects rampant tribulation in the form of nonstop, ranting vocals, and an unexpected self-preservation. One may consider it Peace and Purpose in a nutshell; we’re a mess, we’re disorganised, but we’re hellbent on remaining intact – if nothing else, it is the album’s artwork in a nutshell.
Crack Cloud’s fourth is another ode to healing, which I realise sounds like an ocarina theme from a Zelda game, named by writers low on ideas. Peace and Purpose is clunky but Crack Cloud’s reputation as a buncha wacky diplomats, that have lived and experienced, is realer than ever. It continues their unique language, in which re-entering darkness is considered a must. While it is unlikely that a Crack Cloud album will ever sound totally chirpy from head to toe, this is a great stride toward the possibility of chirpiness.
Best tracks – Safe Room – Pick Apart – Marathon of Hope – Shut the Fuck Up.
Rating – 7 out of 10
