The Drums
Jonny
ANTI-
ABOVE THE CURRENT
Anyone familiar with The Drums knows that the melancholic-pop project from Brooklyn essentially belongs to Jonny Pierce. While the gifted multi-instrumentalist and angelic vocalist started the band in 2008 as a quartet, the other three members gradually peeled off, leaving only its core member in 2016. Since then, the project is all about Pierce, music-wise and message-wise. “Wherever you go, you take yourself with you,” goes the well-worn expression. Such is the case with Pierce, who—without the distraction of bandmates—has spent the past seven years relegated to self-examination.
Pierce is no stranger to facing and overcoming struggles. Early in his career he signed to Columbia Records with his previous project Elkland. Clichéd major-label disasters ensued, with a panting Pierce crawling out of the muck like the bloody protagonist in The Descent. He linked up with some friends and fellow musicians, and The Drums were born. While lauded by indie-rock fans hungering for smooth sounds and lively melodies at a time of rawk overload, some members of the press lambasted The Drums as unoriginal wanna-bes. Six albums later, they’re still standing—if only on two feet.
Unbelievably, that’s just a fraction of the tumult that the outspoken Pierce has endured and, more importantly, overcome. Pierce has been talking openly about his desire to make a purely self-indulgent solo record for a decade, saying such an approach is true to the original form of pop music. Eventually, as he was promoting The Drums’ penultimate release, 2019’s Brutalism, he came out of the closet and said doing so may have saved his life, while additionally opening the door for a more personal approach to songwriting.
Now, with Jonny, he’s opening up more old wounds, the most difficult of which being childhood trauma. The new Drums record revolves around Pierce’s feelings of detachment from his mother, growing up in an abusive household, and having a father he refers to as a “cult leader.” In an effort to finally get to the root of all the damage on this exploratory album, Pierce strips away everything about himself (including, quite literally, his clothes, on the album cover). Some critics are already trying to wrap their heads around the paradox of Pierce processing his decades of grief on a record that twinkles, soothes, and even inspires. And those critics should, indeed, have their heads shrunk. As any therapist would advise, healing from childhood trauma requires immense sensitivity.
This is an anomaly of a record that probably should’ve been classified as a Pierce solo project, if for no other reason than to avoid future confusion over the Drums catalog. As a minimalist affair that mostly centers on a single topic, Pierce is rather limited in how far he can stretch the proverbial rubber band before it snaps. But he can’t be blamed for that—especially not in light of all the trauma he’s shouldered in his life. He deserves admiration for not just surviving the myriad ordeals that befell him, but figuring out how to move forward with his life, actively facing his past demons and appearing to make major strides in addressing his personal problems through both therapy sessions and studio sessions.
Not only surprises but miracles can happen when a person truly devotes themselves to self-improvement. Whereas past Drums releases showcased Pierce’s strength and breadth as a musical talent, Jonny is arguably even more vital: It makes a persuasive case for the triumph of the human spirit.
