Jonny's Bigass Music Review Part 4
Posted by Jonny X on January 11, 2007

Rise Against – The Sufferer and the Witness

Take this review with a grain of salt. I’ll explain at the end.

I feel like I know Rise Against more than I know any other band. I’ve never met them (except for a brief meeting with Tim at a concert in Fort Collins after I interviewed the Mad Caddies, lucky for me, I was fortunate enough to snag a photo with him), and we’ve never hung out. Yet I have a kinship with them that is unlike my experience with any other band.

As the second year of graduate school rapidly approached, I found myself without a thesis topic as my colleagues quickly chose theirs and joined with faculty advisors to begin the long and arduous process of writing. I had dick. Everyone was doing really academic sounding stuff like “The Rhetoric of Abortion in Constitutional Law” and “The Political and Rhetorical Similarities of George W. Bush and Woodrow Wilson.” Luckily there were also people focusing on media texts like “depictions of race, gender, and suburbia in Desperate Housewives” and “the mythology and intertextuality of Superman.”

I had a college radio show, and I liked to play punk rock. Eventually while on a long car trip and listening to Rise Against continuously, I decided on my topic. Come hell or high water, I was going to write about Rise Against, godammit! I knew this would be somewhat of a hard sell to potential thesis advisors, but I’d sold house painting estimates door-to-door, so I knew I could handle it.

After a very long search, I finally nailed down a thesis advisor and was well on my way to examining Rise Against’s Siren Song of the Counterculture in comparison to Yellowcard’s Ocean Avenue through the lens of Lawrence Grossberg’s theory of bands constructing their own audiences rather than catering to audiences that already exist. Essentially, it’s a theory that states that each media text calls an audience into being that did not previously exist. I was to examine the messages of each album, construct a hypothetical audience for each, and derive a greater meaning based on that audience for the bands, the genre of punk rock, and society (youth culture in particular) in general.

If you haven’t hit your back button yet, I promise that’s the last mention of academic theory in this article. I spent the next ten months dissecting each album agonizing over the musical construction, lyrical messages, and overall meaning of each. When writing something that time-intensive, it’s easy to become disenchanted with your object of study. Yellowcard is a band that I don’t listen to anymore. Once I finished writing their section, I checked out. Granted, I had started to do this well before I even began writing the thesis, but analyzing their album in such detail solidified my desire never to listen to them again.

Rise Against was a different story. The more I listened to Siren Song, and the more I delved deeper into my analysis, the more I loved it. I was amazed that even as I pored over beat counts, time signatures, and syntactical lyrical structure, I just wanted to listen to the album more. I appreciated it on a deeper level as I placed myself inside each song and felt each time as though I was listening to the album for the first time, if not writing it myself. It was a microcosmic glimpse into what having a child might feel like. I realize that sounds over the top, but I threw myself full force into crafting a thesis I would be proud of 30 years later and that would ultimately prove the doubters in my department wrong, so while this exposition may sound ridiculously grandiose and self-important, I assure I am truthful in my feelings.

And on a slightly less deep level, I still thought the album fucking rocked!

Anyway, I worked my ass off and defended my thesis before all but one of my colleagues. For reasons too long to explain here (or ever for that matter), it was a huge “Fuck you” to a large contingent of the faculty and a substantial subset of the graduate class as well. For these reasons, Siren Song of the Counterculture will always be the album for which I have the most affection by Rise Against or any other band. It played a large role in the important defining moment in my academic life, and my life in general. While I think the music is excellent, this album means more to me than just jamming in my car.

It’s amazing how quickly ethereal your work becomes in this fast-paced world. As I finished my thesis, Yellowcard came out with a new album rendering my thesis about 5 minutes late to the party before it even began. Three months later, Rise Against dropped a new one as well. As much time, effort, mental anguish, and sleepless nights I put into my thesis, it was now officially old news. That’s tough, but there’s nothing to do about it. So as quickly as I rose to the pinnacle of academic achievement, just as quickly I was just another passé Master’s degree recipient looking for a job.

And even though Rise Against’s new album symbolically ended my academic importance and showed me the door to the real world all at once, I’m not one to hold grudges, so I picked it up eagerly. My expectations were so high from listening to Siren Song for 10 straight months, that I was expecting the new album to be nothing short of created by the hand of God himself. I didn’t get that, but what I got was a solid offering into the contemporary punk milieu.

The album opens with a brief intro wherein an announcer braces the listener with “This is noise.” A few seconds later, “Chamber the Cartridge” blasts through with Tim McIlrath’s sandpapered and furious vocals. It’s usually about this time that anyone over the age of 30 or so decides they’ve had enough of Rise Against, and we listen to something else. Upon first listen, I thought, “‘This is noise.’ Oh that’s cute. More self-deprecation from a punk band that nods to the mainstream perception of this music as mere noise. Ha ha. I get it.”

I no longer think that’s the case. Rise Against is much too hyper-self-aware for that sort of elementary self-reference. And more importantly, I don’t think they consider their music noise. I think their decision to open the album with this sentence speaks to something else entirely. “This is noise” serves as a warning shot to a mainstream culture that often discards contemporary punk rock too hastily before understanding the motives behind it.

By alerting the listener to the impending “noise,” Rise Against metaphorically serves a subpoena to those they feel do wrong. To the racists, the sexists, the degraders of the environment, the hate-mongers, the big businessman, the evil parents, and the entire right wing, this serves as an official warning that revolution is imminent. It starts as mere grumbling, escalates to noise, and crescendos with cacophonous revolution. Rise Against believes in the power of its music, and the purity of its message. And although the music takes on a very rough edge, Rise Against are nothing more than wide-eyed optimists.

Their unwavering support to the causes they believe and their perpetual exposition of those themes in their music point to an unflappable sense of hope. They believe they can make a difference, and they believe that with just one more record/one more tour/one more converted teenager, revolution sits just over the horizon. Do I think this is the case? Not ncessarily. But this is what makes Rise Against so enthralling.

Bands like Anti-Flag and NOFX leave me completely cold because there’s no real substance behind any of their political salvos. If either band were to write a song about something other than blind and general criticism of George Bush, I’d be amazed. That type of political statement is completely reactionary and runs almost diametrically opposed to the real inspiration for change. For revolution to occur, it’s true that an enemy must be identified and rallied against. Liberals, young people, environmentalists, and pacifists (among many others) identified Bush as their prime target about 8 seconds after the Supreme Court ruled that he was victorious over Al Gore. Needless to say, I think we’ve established that a lot of people don’t like President Bush.

Why punk rock continues to beat this dead horse with such vigor continues to perplex me. We all know that you don’t like him. We all know why you think he’s evil. What the fuck do you intend to do about it? This is where Rise Against enters and takes the argument to the next level.

Real revolution springs from a sense of hope. Images of future prosperity, peace, success, happiness, or any of about a thousand different goals are what propel revolution from pipe dream to reality. Rise Against offers these images and focus the perceived bleakness of the present through the lens of real change and tangible action. What comes through then is a clear picture of a future much sunnier than the present we face today.

Rise Against takes issues that are important to them, explains why these issues should be important to us, and then offers solutions for the problems. It’s this third component that bands seem unable to capture effectively in their music. Bands with political leanings seem so insistent on focusing on the problem at hand that they mire themselves in negativity and forget that rather than dwelling in the despair of the moment, they would better serve themselves and their audience by proffering solutions. It adds another layer to the understanding of the music, and as a listener, it’s much more satisfying to listen to.

This is not to say that Rise Against follows a formula in each song like a five paragraph essay. Some songs on the album focus almost exclusively on the ills of society, while others offer nothing but messages of hope. Some songs contain both components and utilize, as I used to say when teaching persuasive speeches in my public speaking class, a problem-solution organizational pattern.

“Chamber the Cartridge” and “Injection” are two of the more problem-oriented songs on the album. “Chamber the Cartridge” speaks to the callousness of the world-at-large with regard to social issues, and the perpetual struggle of the social reformer. “Injection” employs images of euthanasia as the song breaks down in excruciating detail the physical sensation of loss.

Two songs later “Bricks,” which, by the way, is probably the rockingest and most “old school Rise Against-sounding” song on the album, paints an extraordinary picture of efficacy and good old fashioned determination. In the face of adversity, the song’s chorus zealously shouts:

Having hope in your heart and a brick in your hand is all a teenager needs to believe in him or herself in a world that constantly tells him or her no. Rise Against instills basic messages in its audience, but they’re beautiful in their simplicity. Compare this with NOFX who calls the president an “Idiot Son of an Asshole,” and you’ve got two drastic takes on political activism. “Idiot Son of an Asshole” is good for a chuckle every once in a while, but ultimately yields no action. Hope in your heart and a brick in your hand is step one (of many, I realize) on the road to change.

Rise Against equips its audience to fight the good fight at all costs. You can find these themes present on nearly every track, but most notably on “Bricks,” “Prayer of the Refugee,” “Worth Dying For,” and “Behind Closed Doors.” Anger and inspiration find equal balance on this record which equates to an easy recommendation from me.

However, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the album’s shortcomings. First, we gotta mention the acoustic song, whose name escapes me, and which I can’t be bothered to look up. On Siren Song of the Counterculture, “Swing Life Away” was easily the most popular song and most easily accessible to mainstream audiences. When I saw Rise Against here in Denver, I was shocked at how many young, teenage girls were at the show. I couldn’t believe “Swing Life Away” was popular enough that it could cause an entire demographic that shouldn’t be at a punk show ever to show up en masse. I know the reason they were there was for that song because 1) no one from this subset paid attention to punk gods The Bouncing Souls and 2) once Rise Against got into its heavy-ass set, many of them left because Rise Against took to long to play “Swing Life Away.” I died a little inside that night.

That notwithstanding, it would be only natural for Rise Against to follow up this success with another song in this mold. I have no idea what their motives are for this emo-happy, acoustic bullshit, and they may be noble, but I think acoustic punk is retarded. You can have a punk ballad, but it’s entirely unnecessary to make it acoustic. Acoustic music is for guys trying to fuck dim-witted drunk chicks at a frat party, not for punk bands.

Doubly irritating is the fact that Tim McIlrath sounds like that guy who sung that dreadful, pale-faced, complaint rock “Miss Misery” song on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack. I feel like I’m being told ham-fistedly how I should feel by songs like these, and I fucking hate that. Let the music speak for itself, and quit saturating it with “mood.” Anyway, there’s one of these songs on here, and while I dislike it less than I dislike “Swing Life Away,” I still think it’s easily the weakest track on the album.

But hey, if you like acoustic punk, then you’ll probably love this. And you’re an idiot.

Secondly, Track 8. “The Approaching Curve” employs spoken word and female vocal accompaniment behind driving punk instrumentation. It sounds like reheated coffee shop poetry set to music in some misguided attempt to break new ground in the overall canon of punk rock. It’s like when you tell your friends that you think Jello Biafra is so courageous and experimental in his solo spoken word endeavors when in reality you’re just sort of annoyed that he doesn’t play his Dead Kennedys music anymore.

This song is an admirable attempt at expanding the boundaries of punk rock, but for whatever reason doesn’t resonate with me. I find myself skipping this track more and more as I continue to listen to this record. It’s novel the first couple of times you hear it, but after awhile, you just want to hear Rise Against continually blow the fucking doors off.

Third, and it pains me to say this, I find this album less memorable than Siren Song of the Counterculture. Maybe it’s the fact that I devoted nearly a year of my life to analyzing Siren Song and that I feel a special kinship to that album, but I don’t know, I just can’t LOVE this album the way I want to. My friends are no help in this matter, either. I’ve had friends tell me they think this is Rise Against’s best work ever while others say that it doesn’t quite stack up to previous efforts. I’m compelled to agree with both.

On one hand, this album is a natural evolution for Rise Against. The instrumentation feels tighter, the messages seem clearer, and the boundaries are expanded - all without breaking too far from what you expect from a Rise Against record. On the other hand, these songs are harder to sing a long to. There’s no adrenaline-fueled anthem like “Give It All” here. “State of the Union” just has more teeth as an opener than “Chamber the Cartridge.” “To Them These Streets Belong” is the best head-nodder ever written by Rise Against. I love The Sufferer and the Witness, but, and this is no fault of Rise Against, I will never have the affection for it that I have for Siren Song. Siren Song is woven into my being and inextricably linked to my greatest scholastic accomplishment. There probably aren’t many people who can say that – my guess is zero others.

Therefore, this review is somewhat tainted. I won’t apologize for that, but I offer it as a disclaimer for understanding this album. This might just be Rise Against’s best work ever, but if it is, I’d never know it. My heart rests with Siren Song, and probably always will.

High recommendation for this album, but in my opinion, Siren Song of the Counterculture is the crown jewel of Rise Against’s impressive catalog.

Remember your salt.