The extended-player can be a strange beast. Usually around 4 or 5 tracks, it can display the strengths of a band, showcasing the choicest cuts in a group’s sonic quiver. But it can also tread the dangerous line of a “sampler” with the impression that something is being withheld. If done right, it teases listeners with the promise of more, yet stands alone as something cohesive, unified and complete in and of itself. Speaking to the nature of the short story in the introduction to his collection The Bagombo Snuffbox and Other Stories, Kurt Vonnegut wrote that short stories (or EPs, for that matter) are like little Buddhist catnaps.
While The Austerity Program may not be as serene as Vonnegut’s recollection of Saturday Evening Post short fiction offerings, Backsliders and Apostates Will Burn is a 20-minute diversion from the routine of daily life. It is a chance to fully experience the simple rawness of bass, drums and guitar, not to mention Justin Foley’s woeful proclamations and direful wails.
Diving into the music at hand, Foley and Thad Calabrese ease us in to a world on the brink of falling apart with a single sustained note. It’s a full minute long and at the end multi-instrumentalist Justin Foley softly concludes, “There is only sorrow.” It’s a monotone funeral dirge, a proverbial calm before the storm, and a signal that The Austerity Program’s prophesy of apocalyptic pain and heartache is nigh. In-fucking-deed.
“Song 25” is a requiem for unfulfilled hopes as Foley yells, “you can try your best but it’s never enough.” Your pursuits are never realized, and your insignificance is ignored by the earth and sea. Bassist Thad Calabrese works his way through most of the song with a single-note line, but while the variation of notes in minimal, his rhythms and emphasis are diverse. The low-end, percussive riffs build under programmed beats that systematically layer bass drum, high-hat then snare. The last 30 seconds of this track may be my favorite, as a final pause between breakdowns gives way to a double-bass assault and a feeling of unrestrained energy.
“Song 26” reminds me a lot of Garth Ennis’ Preacher comics in its ability to evoke devotion and blasphemy at the same time. There is a mingling theme of repentance, damnation and rock ‘n’ roll. When Foley preaches “I am not the one who will save your soul / Blessing you with an amplifier,” it seems as if he is doing just that. Breakdowns and builds, quick blasts of heavy distortion with explosive percussion—this is the church of punk rock and The Austerity Program are leading the service.
In my first listen review I couldn’t find enough good things to say about this release. And over a month later I still feel the same way. These four tracks have secured a spot in my daily playlist, and part of the reason is that The Austerity Program has crafted an EP that is a cathartic release. “Song 27,” for example, is the depressed lament of an anthropomorphic rabbit peddling sugary kids’ cereal. At just over four minutes it’s the shortest offering on the record. . The ending here is one of the best, with pummeling bass and periodic guitar squeals. Finally, Foley says, “I ain’t finished yet / No, this shit ain’t over………..not by a long shot,” upon which the band leap in to one final display of speed and power before ending. There’s still one more track on the EP, but I take it to mean that The Austerity Program could actually keep up this pace for as long as they like.
Like the other tracks, “Song 27” follows a recognizable formula: low-frequency bass riffs that build with increasingly loud drums, a handful of breakdowns and timely pauses, and an all-out final sonic attack. Formula is by no means a bad thing, but I’m left wondering about how well a long-player would hold up with this process. I’m afraid to think that I might get bored of such intensity if presented with a full hour of it. Not to mention, the EP seems to suit this band very well.
“Song 29” is a fitting coda to the EP, and it provides an appropriate thematic conclusion. Lyrically it echoes the first track’s images of water, but this time it’s the ocean swallowing us whole, completely apathetic to our human desires. It’s also the track where The Austerity Program shows some diversity, opening with the slow, distorted arpeggio on guitar. It’s the first track where some attempt at brightness enters the picture, but this may just be the solace that accompanies the acknowledgment of our impending doom. Regardless, it’s a solid conclusion to Backsliders and Apostates Will Burn.
Quick note: As if this EP wasn’t awesome enough as it is, The Austerity Program seem to be offering a unique opportunity to fans in the way of a contest. Basically, do something creative related to the new EP: remix a song (they’ve gone ahead and provided people with the track on their website), take a photo, make a parody video, or some other kind of creative interpretation of their music, and win some awesome prizes like a download of virtually every Austerity Program song, a handmade poster set, a cover song of your choice, or, if you are within 100 miles of the NYC area, a show in your house or apartment (they say they can be quiet if need be, but I find this hard to believe). Visit their website for more details.
Editor’s Note: Stream the album here. You know you want to.