Triumph Of Lethargy Skinned Alive To Death
Some Of Us Are In This Together
Don't Stop Believin' Records

When Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death formed back in 2002, the initial buzz surrounding the project had much to do with their Murder City Devils pedigree. Devil’s vocalist Spencer Moody and merch slinger Corey J. Brewer were the masterminds behind the band, and there was a practical assumption that they would work with a similar boozy and belligerent rock template. But Triumph of Lethargy was an enigma. Their early work came across more like fragments of home recording experiments than actual songs. It was hard to digest. Under another name or as part of another lineage it might have come across as heady conceptual art rock, but the moniker and membership suggested that it might be some sort of elaborate prank or hostile anti-rock statement. Context was working against the band. If it was easy to dismiss those early recordings on the basis of not falling within reasonable expectations, it grew harder to write off Triumph of Lethargy as they grew into an active live band. The songs still sounded half-written and the musicianship still lacked your standard professional finesse, but there was something in the cobbled-together instrumentation, oddly compelling hooks, and the vagabond bravado of their stage presence that was extremely engaging. The biggest hurdle for the band was to somehow translate that clunky charisma onto record.

Some of Us Are in This Together is the band’s sixth full-length and a considerable progression from their early years. And in many ways, it feels like the first Triumph of Lethargy record to fully capture the essence of the band. “We’ve always wanted our pretty songs to be beautiful and our ugly songs to be as fucked as possible,” states Brewer. And indeed, the band succeeds in that regard. With that mission statement in place, Triumph of Lethargy construct loose frameworks for their songs, allowing the members to improvise, and by extension, imbuing their work with an added sense of the unexpected. But Brewer denies any deliberate attempts at eliciting hostility or crafting a hoax. “I think the confrontational aspect comes from the fact that we don't elicit any middle ground opinions and the people that don't like us really fucking hate us. It's hard not to react to that hatred. But when we are writing music an idea of audience or listeners doesn't even factor in. Honestly, it’s really just for our own pleasure.”

That lack of middle ground might be why “Hey Asshole” has been a live standout for quite some time. It’s exciting to see not only that they’ve finally pressed the baiting anthem to wax, but also that they’ve nailed its jittery defiant racket. It's messy, unhinged, like Spencer Moody was actually kicking someone in the chest while they were tracking it. But even before TOL drunkenly marches forth into their expletive-laden hit, they’ve already established their stride. Opening track “Don’t Lust After Other Women” is anchored by a slow western twang reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s “Cowboy Dan” but eschews Isaac Brock’s uplifting mid-song resolution in favor of driving the number further into the desolate dust. From there the record surges into the clamorous “If You Believe In Blood”. It takes only a few bars of improperly intonated guitar to give the listener a sinking feeling that TOL might be more interested in alienating the listener than Brewer lets on. But halfway through the song these huge shuddering bolts of guitar slice through the mix, and the method to the madness becomes apparent. Triumph Of Lethargy’s rickety structures serve the larger purpose of creating a dynamic where you become convinced that the song is rattling apart at the seams, dissolving into nothingness, but then hammers the point home with an authoritative thrust. The next song, “Salt”, is about as triumphant as one could expect from the band. Here we find the bent and broken notes of the previous track swapped for rousing call-to-arms chords. These changes in temperament are the key distinguishers in Some of Us. It’s a brilliant mood swing record. One moment TOL is frothing at the mouth with the brash “Let’s Leave the Elephant in the Room”, and then it turns on a dime to the bittersweet urban nostalgia of “Issabella Rossalini’s Shoe."

Triumph of Lethargy’s bipolar nature keeps the album moving swiftly. The only crests and valleys on Some of Us exist in relation to one’s inclination towards either the scathing lashes of their rancorous material or the coarse splendor of their run-down paeans. There’s no shortage of flat notes, hesitated beats, or stumbled transitions. Hell, Moody even stops mid-sentence and rephrases an invitation to some long-lost friend in the opening monologue of “No Hope Here." But rather than interrupt the flow, these imperfections are part of TOL’s power. They provide a sense of humanity and intimacy that makes Triumph of Lethargy equal parts honest, ugly, and beautiful.