Review: “Patterns” by Ashford

“Patterns,” the new album from Ashford, is a lot like “Hamlet,” minus the literal ghosts. Also, Ophelia is hooking up with some random guy in the corner of the beer-stench dive where it all happens. What is one to think? What is one to do?

This may seem hyperbolic, but hear me out: Ashford has rancorous theatre to snare you with here. 

Listening to this feisty beast of a record, I hear influences of The All American Rejects, Jimmy Eat World, Coheed and Cambria, and Bayside. Aside from a clear 1996-2003 center, there are fascinating moments and flourishes throughout. At times, they made me feel like I was listening -alternatively, though briefly – to 80’s hair metal, Metallica, The Police, or U2.

Common elements of all the songs: tight rhythm between bass and drums forming a determined heartbeat, emotive vocals delivered in a style that’s powerful but not histrionic (a major pitfall of pop-punk that is deftly sidestepped here), and guitar work that made me feel like I was in a straight jacket careening down a highway with the world’s most trustworthy speed demon. All the tunes are beautifully mixed and arranged, simple without being simplistic and largely without pretense. This is the sound of a young group dealing with youthful problems in a youthful way. My highest compliments to the engineer for wresting that energy into form; it’s squeaky clean.

The album as a whole is a statement of struggling against adversity. It is, in a sense, the thought experiment of turning over in one’s palm the summation of one’s life choices: reflecting on the travails of failed relationships, personal doubt, the contradictions inherent in others, and the crushing pressure to succeed in today’s world.

Qualitatively, it alternates between regret, indignation, and desire. The enemy is within and without (mostly within, according to the singer). Each song is centered around a basic notion of a person’s hyper-analytical part coming into conflict with the emotive state. Ultimately, one is unrecognizable under a microscope; the best we can do is approximate. Life is a series of only slightly different patterns, and the mosaic ain’t pretty.

Track Breakdown

1. “Hypocrite”

“Patterns” opens with the track “Hypocrite.” Sounding not unlike Green Day with a fresh coat of paint, the record puts its combat boots on and is spoiling for a fight at the onset. Immediately, the listener is put on notice: “You think you’re better than everyone else / Well buddy, I’ll see you in hell.”

This song does a great job of confronting some of the credibility problems pop-punk can have when it comes to being earnest or intellectually developed. Instead of claiming egoistic superiority, there is a sharp self-awareness (“I’m just a disgrace”). It’s anthemic, competitive, self-loathing, and lashes out at anyone who dares pass judgment. I find this bile delightful.

2. “First”

Track two, “First,” has some doomy acid dripping out from the slow build-up of bass and drums, opening up into a cavernous sound where the vocals come in. Immediately, we get to see a bit of nuance in something a little bit softer.

At first a self-pitying moan, this subterranean sludge has seeped into the singer’s mind, and it’s catalytic. The chorus explodes into a satisfying proclamation of failed love. Shifting and undulating between these highly critical self-assessments, we understand the possessiveness, the jealously. The singer desires to be the first and only love of the object of his affections, but that moment has passed, and all we’re left with is searing regret.

3. “Flying”

Track three, “Flying,” had me rocketing above some middle-eastern wasteland in a piercing blue sky, moments before the bombs start dropping. The segment is evocative of U2’s “Bullet the Blue Sky.” Thankfully, the track leaves the land of Joshua Tree and blossoms into a moody sojourn that carries you to ever-desperately burning heights.

“Flying” is best understood as an interplay of falling and catching the slipstream – the motion of the hell of safety, struggle, and departure.

4. “Sophomore”

Track four, “Sophomore,” is clearly influenced, in great ways, by Coheed and Cambria’s “A Favor House Atlantic.” But instead of the fantasy and mysticism, this tune has a much more naked and vulnerable message. What makes it for me is the softer, semi-acoustic transition that presents a briefly saccharine image of nostalgia. Of course, it snaps back to the aggression, the pattern of self-loathing and fury. But thankfully, the rhythm slams through any desire to look back (there’s too much pain to ever go back). The bridge is poppy, with a little bit of edge from some tactical screaming and overdriven guitar. It’s definitely a headbanger.

5. “I’ll be Fine”

Did I hear Mac Demarco in this? Or perhaps “Explosions in the Sky” – beautiful, melancholy vocals over a righteously good build-up into a perfectly 2010’s post-rock, indie, slammer of a song. This is probably the catchiest, most radio-friendly tune on the album.

In an album that deals with the perpetuity of suffering in youth and love, this track has the most nuanced approach. Instead of the anger of the previous tunes, this one plays more like a tragedy – and, in doing so, adds a much-welcomed dimension. I feel like I’m walking alone to my dorm freshman year tears frozen on my face, cheeks burning, uncertain of how I got here – only knowing I’m torn between my own mistakes and the apathy of the world in the face of it all. 

6. “Wasn’t It Worth It”

Hang on; we’re in straight punk land here. This is Greenday, Doc Martens, Kobain, and that molotov cocktail of teenage rebellion we’ve all had in our heads in the face of fucking fools. You want a song to get angry or go ballistic on a speed bag this is it. 

The Verdict

Overall, “Patterns” is an album of personal adversity, at times self-aware and at others, completely overpowered with emotion. It poses nuanced questions: Does awareness really save us or just make us understand how deeply we’ve been hurt? Is that knowledge ultimately what leads to the pattern of self-doubt, mistrust, and disdain? Do we create these patterns for ourselves, or are they an inevitable byproduct of a callous world? Is the answer merely in trying again and again until we get it? 

Is it worth it? 

I’d say this album comes down fairly on the side of cynicism regarding any healing or forgiveness, and I find that refreshing. it’s a primal howl of teenage angst in a time that feels increasingly claustrophobic and dismal. Ashford does quite enough to distinguish themselves from other pop-punk acts by embracing nuance, expressing contradiction, and blasting the whole bloody thing to kingdom come. I typically hate pop-punk, but I enjoy this album, especially the track “I’ll be Fine.” I will definitely listen to it, inescapably, again.