Silverstein Breaks Down Their Seething New Album “Misery Made Me” Track by Track

The hardcore mainstays’ latest LP is out today via UNFD.
Track by Track

Silverstein Breaks Down Their Seething New Album Misery Made Me Track by Track

The hardcore mainstays’ latest LP is out today via UNFD.

Words: Mike LeSuer

Photo: Wyatt Clough

May 06, 2022

It feels like we’re comfortably within the putting-a-positive-spin-on-things era of the still-ongoing pandemic, with artists and listeners alike feeling like we’ve come out the other end stronger and wiser. While the “stronger and wiser” part seems to ring true with plenty of folks, it’s hard to ignore the sobering reality that this week saw the millionth recorded death due to COVID—a jaw-dropping truth that mostly passed under the radar.

This uncomfortable middle ground between self-actualization and the continued reminders of the ways in which our world has been negatively shaped over the past two years—within and outside of the “COVID-19” tab on our news source of choice—is the space inhabited by the latest release from Silverstein, a band that’s undergone the same metamorphosis most of us achieved in quarantine. Misery Made Me is the product of that transformation, the record’s anthemic hardcore eloquently translating anxieties into appealing catharsis.

Within the album’s 11 tracks are a wide range of sounds and philosophies, with opener “Our Song” sounding at moments like Dexter Holland shouting over a familiar Hey Mercedes riff as he reworks lyrics from an Elton John song with a similar title. Later in the record the focus spans from QAnon Trumpers on the right to the “performative nature of online righteousness” on the left before landing at the conclusion that the only way forward is to accept and adapt. 

With the album out today, we had vocalist Shane Told and guitarist Paul Marc Rousseau walk us through each track. Stream along and read their thoughts below. You can also grab tickets for their upcoming summer tours here.

1. “Our Song”

Paul Marc Rousseau: COVID lockdowns were the worst. You could probably copy and paste that to every single entry here, and I know it’s been beaten to death, but it’s a necessary piece of framework for this album. When we started doing Twitch streams I got some sense of community back. It was nice to see everyone in the chat every week interacting like old pals. It gave me a new perspective. People in this music scene feel like they’ve found some secret special place that was made for them. It made me miss being at shows and  seeing thousands of people all tuned to the same wavelength. If it isn’t obvious, “You can tell everybody this is our song” is a riff on the chorus of Elton John’s “Your Song.” I liked the idea of everyone in the community being able to claim ownership to the song. I hope they do. 

2. “Die Alone” 

Shane Told: This song is about a one-sided “friendship,” the kind where one person holds incredible power and influence over another and will use this in an abusive, intimidating, bullying way. The Wolf of Wall Street clip is one example of where this is done in practical terms, where DiCaprio’s character doesn’t care about these people working underneath him as long as they’re bringing in money under any condition. Another real world example this was inspired from is the white power groups and QAnon Trump supporters who use these tactics to recruit and prey on vulnerable people to spread their own messages of hate and division.

3. “Ultraviolet”

Paul Marc Rousseau: I felt like I was being betrayed by my brain chemistry and getting put through the ringer by this unseeable thing. Running with the parallel of ultraviolet light felt like a way to picture something invisible that was controlling me. We went very straight-ahead—we went with the drums and chords as if to counterbalance the more confused emotional aspect of the song. 

4. “Cold Blood”

Paul Marc Rousseau: It seems like we’re overdosing on tragedy porn and the only action we take is to post a two-dimensional infographic and move on. Rinse and repeat. It’s brutal because with all the horrible shit that comes across our timeline so fast we have no choice but to become at least a little numb to it. I’m sure we wish we had time to fix even one thing, but the nature of social media is such that there’s always going to be a new item to share. I just needed to vent about the performative nature of online righteousness.  

5. “It’s Over”

Paul Marc Rousseau: “It’s Over” tries to address the downward spiral that eventually leads to giving up. Those anxiety-packed hours when you can’t feel anything but the low, steady crescendo of panic that eventually gets so intense your fingertips lose sensation. It’s hopeless to feel but pointless to endure, because there’s no beginning and no end. I didn’t learn anything from feeling that way. I just wanted it to stop. 

6. “The Altar / Mary”

Paul Marc Rousseau: “The Altar” is an angrier, darker, more pessimistic continuation of “Bankrupt.” I believe I started writing this right around the return of the minimum wage debates and I was just plain livid. I think a lot about an economy propped up by coercion. The more social security nets are stripped away, the less leverage we have with employers. If the threat of abject poverty is always looming and there's always someone worse off than you, how could you possibly bargain for better wages? The second act of the song is from the perspective of a middle manager type who knows they’re complicit in the system and has no way to change it without self sabotaging. “Mary” is the confession booth atonement of that person. 

7. “Slow Motion”

Paul Marc Rousseau: I hadn’t been home for an entire winter since 2012 or something, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, even without the lockdowns (Toronto was the most locked-down city in the world). Turns out it’s incredibly difficult to keep it together when there’s nothing to do and nothing to look forward to. Those bleak, short days and long nights made me feel frozen in time. Every day was the same—there was nowhere to look that gave even a moment’s solace. The city was dead and so was I. 

8. “Don’t Wait Up”

Paul Marc Rousseau: This is a dive into the world of dissociation which was probably a secondary symptom of the winter depression I was dealing with. My body was here, but my mind or soul or whatever was somewhere else. Many days my partner would go to work before I got up and wouldn’t get home until 7 or 8 p.m., so I’d go all day without seeing or speaking to anyone. I’d sort of feel like I was living in third person. Like I could see myself milling about on autopilot as I made coffee or did the crossword or whatever. I guess it’s easier to live like that than to be constantly fighting your own reality because you aren’t happy with it. 

9. “Bankrupt”

Paul Marc Rousseau: I don’t know how to feel anything but rage anymore. The rich are getting richer and poor are getting poorer. Wages are stagnant, tuition costs are rising, jobs are being automated/off-shored, costs of a home are laughable in most major cities. The walls feel like they’re closing in and escape is starting to feel impossible. Two-faced leaders and greedy elected officials line their pockets while stripping funding for the programs that we actually need. What are we supposed to do now? Looking out for one another on a community level is good, but changing a crooked system is better.”

10. “Live Like This”

Paul Marc Rousseau: Similar to “Slow Motion,” the chorus lyric says it all: “I don’t wanna die, but I can’t live like this.” I didn’t feel like I did much living. I didn’t even want to write around this time. I didn’t think I had anything to say because I hadn’t seen or done or felt anything new. I hated that feeling. 

11. “Misery” 

Shane Told: As the calendar flipped from 2020 to 2021 there was a certain optimism in the air.  We’d gotten through a bad year and 2021 surely had to be better, right?  As 2021 continued and nothing changed there was a realization that the world would never be the same again. Despite the mountains we climbed and boulders we pushed we were in the same place. The misery we had faced was reality now. Finding peace in this misery became important. This song is about the acceptance of the new reality, and adapting to it.