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Out of Service hit my radar following the release of their 2019 sophomore album Burden, and it was really exciting to watch them make a big splash during the roll-out of its follow-up, 2022’s The Ground Beneath Me (an album which, fun fact, can be seen in the background of my live performance video for “What do I like now?”). As a savvy marketing tactic in the streaming era, much of the success for TGBM‘s singles came thanks to the high profile guest artists featured on the tracks (Hussey of All Get Out on “The Fall,” John Nolan of Taking Back Sunday and Straylight Run on “What You See,” and Emery on “A Moment Trapped in Time”). However, the band struggled to maintain momentum once the full album had dropped, and the dubious decision to swing back the following year with a stripped-down, acoustic-led album of all new songs (Reflections & Refractions, Vol. 1) impeded the band’s chances at achieving notoriety in the emo scene. All of OOS’s albums are great, R&R included, but this mismatch between what fans wanted and what they received nearly caused the end of the band. Out of Service were dropped from their record label following the under-performance of R&R, and the future looked bleak.
However, these unfortunate circumstances lit a fire beneath vocalist Mike Capuano and guitarist Bryan “Teebs” Williams. Fueled with a bitter creativity, they began crafting the angriest and most experimental songs they’d ever made together. They didn’t know whether these songs would see the light of day — they didn’t even know at first whether these songs would be released as “Out of Service” or as a new project — but they continued pouring their souls, their frustrations, and all of their ideas into these new songs. Teebs pushed himself further than he has on any older project, recording all the guitars for the songs as well as, for the first time, all the bass. Mike took up the mantle of producing their demos, and as their demos started transforming piece-by-piece into the final album versions of these songs, Mike found himself learning the fundamentals of music production on-the-fly, which only makes the final results all the more impressive. (Personally, as someone who is also learning how to produce an album as I go, Mike’s work here is especially inspiring to me; Devastation Awaits has basically set the benchmark of quality that I’m using for my own self-productions.)
The resulting album — which was tied together in the final stages with the recording of live drums and a handful of guest musicians — was surprise-released onto streaming services with little fanfare and minimal teasing leading up to its street date. In direct contrast to the successful, star-studded roll-out for The Ground Beneath Me, Devastation Awaits had zero pre-release singles, zero big name guest musicians, and zero professional marketing from a record label or publicity team. And yet it arguably made an even bigger splash than any of the band’s previous albums, thanks to nothing else besides the stunning quality of its eleven songs.
Word of mouth and sharing the songs on social media has allowed the entire album to rapidly catch up to the Spotify stream counts of TGBM, with one song catching on with audiences in particular: “Secrets and Daggers and Mirrors,” where Mike shares about his childhood of being adopted and then abandoned, with a massive, aching chorus that feels broadly applicable despite Mike’s very specific story, as he sings, “Why did you even bother / Bringing me here just to leave? / I’ll never understand.” These types of angry questions and bitter observations can be found throughout the album. On the opener, “Devastation,” Mike bemoans the senselessness of tragedy that seems to surround us at all times (“Hell on earth while we’re alive / Just another catastrophe to walk right by / Aren’t you tired?“), which I’ve often interpreted to be the overarching theme of the album (not to mention the explanation of the apocalyptic album title). “Pv” features one of the album’s stickiest choruses, which I often find myself singing, despite its dour refrain: “I know better than to drown myself in sorrow every day / And yet it seems that I just can’t help it.“
One of the most important things to know as you listen through this album is that this is a post-hardcore album from a band that has, in the past, only ever teetered on the edges of post-hardcore. Thanks to this history in other genres, Out of Service often runs afoul of the typical rule book for the genre, bucking the trends of modern post-hardcore in favor of songs that are fresh, dynamic, and moody. One of my least favorite formulas in hardcore music is when bands scream through the verses, then pop out of nowhere with clean singing on a big, poppy chorus. Here, OOS often does the opposite, with melodic verses exploding into heavy, scream-filled choruses. Mike’s singing (which sounds better here than ever before) often sits on the aggressive edge between singing and screaming, breaking through into full-on screams in his most dire and emotive moments, meanwhile the instruments surrounding him always match his emotion and create the perfect bedrock for his performances.
Much of that musical prowess comes courtesy of Teebs, who plays guitar throughout this album as if he’s an endless machine of riff ideas. From the catchy pop-punk licks in the verses of “Ripples on a Blank Shore” to the spacey, angular noodling on the chorus of “Acrylic Sealer” (my personal favorite track), his tasteful compositions and guitar tones give each song a unique flavor without ever begging for your attention. His playing also sounds refreshingly real and unedited, as if we’re hearing someone play these wild riffs in real time, rather than sounding doctored and rigidly locked onto the grid. At times, it’s very clear that Teebs is inspired by post-hardcore legends like Thrice and Brand New, but nothing on this album comes off like a pastiche or rip-off. In part, this accomplishment comes courtesy of all the surprise ingredients that the band places on top of the typical drum-bass-two-guitar setup, such as the unhinged piano slamming halfway through “Devastation,” the subtle programming and sound effects that appear throughout the album, or the few guest musicians that I would hate to spoil for anyone who hasn’t listened yet. Look no further than highlights such as “The Observer,” “JJ Lenoir,” “Dust,” or the aforementioned “Ripples” to hear examples of how these elements coalesce into songs that ebb and flow in surprising directions without sacrificing cohesion or catharsis.
Devastation Awaits has, by all means, reinvigorated this band and reshaped their potential as they surge into the future. Although all of their albums have been very good to this point, DA makes them sound, by comparison, as if they had been wearing reins the whole time — shackles that have now been fully removed, allowing the wild beast at the heart of Out of Service to finally run free. And what’s even better is, I know the band isn’t settling yet. I’ve been lucky enough to hear demos the band has already started working on for the next album, and this wave of unburdened creativity is already taking the post-hardcore mastery of DA and spinning it in new directions. I can’t wait to hear what they cook up next.
You can follow Out of Service on Bandcamp, Instagram, or Tiktok.
P.S. If you really love this album (like I do), I believe there’s still some time to pre-order it on vinyl. Yes, the website is in French.
