Released: September 19, 2025
Burn All the Ships doesn’t behave like a return or a corrective. It sounds like a band that has already crossed whatever line mattered and decided not to look back. The album opens as if motion is already underway. “Put That Car in Drive” doesn’t ease into position; it assumes it. Guitars and drums lock immediately, setting a pace that feels settled rather than urgent. The record doesn’t argue its case. It proceeds.
That posture carries directly into “Decades,” which reinforces momentum without widening the frame. The groove holds steady, repetition doing more work than variation. The song doesn’t build toward a moment so much as sustain one, letting familiarity accumulate weight instead of pushing toward release.
“Daylight Lightning” shifts texture without changing direction. The tempo pulls back slightly, but the sense of forward movement remains intact. The track holds tension rather than dramatizing it, reinforcing the album’s preference for pressure maintained over pressure discharged.
“An Effort to Forget” (feat. Emily Haines) introduces another voice without breaking alignment. The collaboration folds into the album’s existing posture rather than opening a new lane. Nothing is reframed. The song continues the record’s habit of staying inside its own boundaries, letting repetition and placement do the work.
“City of Ghosts” and “Details” follow as extensions rather than contrasts. These tracks don’t signal transitions or peaks; they deepen the album’s internal rhythm. The band resists escalation, choosing consistency over emphasis. Time on the record is measured by duration, not by turning points.
On “Navigate,” (feat. City and Color) the presence of a second vocalist doesn’t interrupt the album’s flow. The song stays grounded in the same steady motion, its lines delivered with restraint rather than flourish. Even collaboration here feels functional, reinforcing direction instead of complicating it.
“Unnatural Causes” leans heavier without loosening structure. The riffs repeat with purpose, drums remain locked, and the track presses forward without fanfare. The album continues to rely on persistence rather than contrast to generate impact.
“Damned” closes the record without ceremony. There’s no shift toward resolution, no softening of tone. The song maintains the same posture established at the start and then stops. The album doesn’t conclude so much as disengage, leaving its shape intact even as sound cuts out.
Production across Burn All the Ships stays close and immediate. Guitars are firm without excess, drums are punchy without dominating, and vocals remain integrated rather than spotlighted. The mix favors cohesion over separation, reinforcing the album’s sense of physical presence.
What gives Burn All the Ships its strength is how little it tries to reposition itself. It doesn’t present a thesis or frame a legacy. It holds its ground. The record matters because it commits fully to its stance, trusting consistency to carry weight where volatility once might have been used.
When it ends, it doesn’t explain itself. It simply stops moving. That refusal to gesture toward closure feels intentional. Burn All the Ships holds because it never backs away from the position it chose at the start.
Written by Rob Joncas for DeadNoteMedia.
Artist information and music courtesy of the band.
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