SPICE
Viv
DAIS
“Supergroup” is a term bandied around far too often these days. With a line-up consisting of George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, and Roy Orbison, The Traveling Wilburys were the paragon of the term. SPICE—comprised of members of Ceremony, Creative Adult, and Sabertooth Zombie—are quite a few rungs down on that same ladder, but within the post-hardcore/punk scene, it’s a gathering that caused much excitement when the band formed in 2018. That anticipation only increased when their self-titled debut album, a bristling combination of shoegaze and punk that added up to rough, raw, and frenetic effect, was released back in 2020.
Viv, then, is the difficult second album, and one whose stark, metallic sonics reflect the tumultuous nature of these times. Yet far from embracing the abrasive nature of the scene(s) its members come from, the 10 songs on this record lean heavily into what could almost be described as “poppiness.” Listen, for example, to the way that “Live Scene” somehow transforms Ross Farrar’s dry, disaffected, and monochrome vocal delivery—one of this band’s defining characteristics—into a vibrant, technicolor starburst that’s almost joyous. And even though “Vivid,” which follows immediately after, is a far cry from jovial, there’s something about the way Farrar intones and drones and drags the lyrics across the song’s bruised, beaten corpse—“Now your pain is my pain, yeah” and various combinations of those words—that feels enthusiastic, instilling in those lyrics a sense of macabre majesty in addition to their nihilistic resignation and solemn sadness.
Both those songs take place toward the end of this record, but their mood and atmosphere is consistent throughout the whole thing. Opener “Recovery” and its brutal-yet-airy chug is a war of attrition that rails against existential malaise, while “Any Day Now” is an upbeat, almost Japandroids-esque explosion that offers a glimmer of hope. Elsewhere, the slow, funereal swirl of “Ashes in the Birdbath” is as gloriously gloomy as its title suggests, while the jittery “Dining Out” somehow turns the pessimistic phrase “Life’s too long” into a rallying cry for overcoming dread and anxiety. That, perhaps, is the triumph of Viv. It lowers the coffin of human existence into the ground, but refuses to cover it in dirt. Instead, it turns the drudgery of life—and all the struggles that accompany it—into something that can be used for inspiration to fight back. It’s a reminder that you don’t have to be buried by it all if you don’t want to. At least, not too soon, anyway.
