Terrible People : Home, In A Way
Terrible People
Home, In A Way
It was hard not to love Terrible People. Despite their relatively unpolished records and them admittedly not being the best live performers, the emo band’s earnest, authentic approach to their influences consistently shone through their rough exterior, which won them a respectable following in the Singaporean indie gig canon. Be it via alcohol-induced high or the raw energy of their crowds, their live sets always exuded a magical charm, which redeemed a huge portion of their hit-or-miss catalogue.
Yet ultimately, their past material always felt a little lacking – be it the underwhelming production on 2017’s Smoking Man or questionable songwriting choices on certain cuts off 2019’s Like Clean Air, Terrible People’s older music always reminds me of that one guy I made out with at a certain show held back in Decline (RIP). It was great while drunk, in the dark and in person, but when the lights came back on and I sobered up, I realised he was more awkward than I had wished.
On Home, In A Way, Singaporean emo trio Terrible People don’t stray too far from their brand of emo-tinged singalongs and confessional energy. But although the spirit is scrappy as always, it seems that the third time’s the charm, as they now they sport the tools to wield them properly. Marking the swan song of longtime guitarist Koon How after a half-decade long tenure, the band’s third record is a refined effort that drips with a sense of loss – a heart-bleeding statement powered by tighter performances and a poignant yearning for times past.
On this record, the band brings a newfound maturity to the table. After two years of hunkering down, the band’s colossal amount of invested effort, time, and love become immediately apparent, as the band showcases their best songwriting and production by far. Thanks to improved work from producer Zhang Bo (Cosmic Child, Sobs, Subsonic Eye), the album sounds massive – and unlike their ramshackle DIY past, the band’s performances sound impeccably tight, which allow its eight songs to resonate with their dejected energy and undeniable hooks.
A newfound world-weariness colour these songs, presenting a sombre take on their previous juvenile angst. Here, their self-referential lyrics recall simpler times, while imbuing their impassioned performances with understated sophistication and wistful pain. Much of it comes in the poignant first half: lead single “Derby” amps up their Midwest tendencies (think Mineral), a ball of catharsis on a potent promise. (“We’ll get them next year, Win every game, home & away”) “Every Day” balances pounding waves of chords with dejected inner monologue (“I forgot to sleep again / And walked to work feeling nervous and grey / Slumped in a chair at noon / And closed my eyes hoping it’ll be over soon”), before exploding into a winning refrain screaming amidst inner voices. Meanwhile, “The Movies” rides Weezer-like sentimentalities to a sentimental callback to countless shows ago: “Don’t worry there’s a chance we’ll be Like Clean Air that we used to breathe,” guitarist Koon How sings on the soaring chorus, as visions of past joys return.
Finally, standout “Courage” pushes their sound to its logical conclusion, as they amalgamate blistering guitars, pummeling drums and intensely sincere pleas. More than anything, it reminds me of better times, being tipsy at a gig as the crowd is jumping along. Suddenly I am hyper-aware of the sticky concrete floor underneath all the Vans and Converse sneakers. I realise that I am real, everything here is real, and the people I have around me are real. Someone’s broken glasses are on the floor. I take them and hold them up and a sweaty girl comes up to me, thanking me for finding them. I smile and hug this stranger, singing along in unison to Terrible People: “And suddenly! I’ll feel at peace!”
Unfortunately, these sentimental moments do not always pull through, with the record punctuated by a couple of awkward bookends. Opening with “Gone Now”, the band begins the record on a fumbling start, as they attempt to reprise the group singalongs on their previous opener, “Peachy”, only to find themselves mired in monotonous melodies that trudge their way to a relatively uneventful radio-rock climax.
Closer “Slow Blinking” is another such callback with mixed results. A spiritual successor of sorts to “Subiaco” – a similarly vulnerable cut off Like Clean Air – Hadi references Emerlin, the female vocalist featured on the aforementioned track, but here warm memories of past have turned to melancholic emptiness: “And Ems just doesn’t wanna sing / Could it be known,” he croons with a moody disposition. But despite this sense of continuity, “Slow Blinking” seems to lack the serene, lullaby-esque nature of “Subiaco” that made it so special. Its warbling ambient guitars feel ominous rather than introspective, taking away from its emotionally potent vocals and intimate acoustic guitars.
On its worst offenders, their sentimental tendencies wind up cliche and underwhelming, like on penultimate track, “Juniper”. With its spacey, atmospheric guitars and samples of movie dialogue, the track abruptly brings the album’s momentum to a standstill, despite its seamless transition from “Courage”. Although sampling Home Alone’s heartwarming hug scene makes sense in context of the album’s overarching sense of nostalgia and reminiscence, the tribute feels a bit too on the nose, especially with the explicit mention of “Annual Home Alone Reruns”. The samples-over-atmospheric-guitar shtick is a tiring move, making “Juniper” feel like a filler episode for Terrible People – one the LP could’ve done without.
Despite these lulls, Home, In a Way finally delivers on the glimpses of potential Terrible People previously squandered with inconsistent execution, with its larger-than-life sound, refined craft and powerful writing allowing for their classic melodicism to finally shine. Reflecting on what is lost, they find ways to move forward – and their promises hold all the pain that come with it.
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