In 2013, Fidlar frontman Zac Carper swore off drugs and alcohol for good, a decision that has resulted in an inevitable comedown. While sobriety undoubtedly saved the Los Angeles band from self-destruction, the shadows of their beer-guzzling, junked-up hedonism continue to loom. The punk rockers’ latest offering is proof of the lingering aftermath; sonically, nails the usual Fidlar formula, yet it twists and transforms their youthful skate and surf sensibilities into a cry for help.
Despite the five-year break since 2019’s , this record suggests that total freedom from addiction is still out of reach. Opener sets the tone of the record, Carper’s distinctive voice hollering as a clattering of skate carnage unfolds behind him – yet there’s something broken in his scratchy howls. It’s a confessional cloaked in a Thrasher hoodie, perfectly painting a picture of how to ‘survive the dream’ of the rockstar addict lifestyle when it has become a nightmare.
Scrappy punk rock sensibilities seem to provide a sense of solace for Fidlar. Throughout, the band speak in the same surf-tinged tongue as they always have, both sonically and literally; from the frazzled fuzz of , to s talk of " " of bad situations, the veil of surf lingo feels safe, familiar. However, the usage also highlights how far Fidlar have come from their “Wake! Bake! Skate!” years, providing a direct point of reference to see how they have grown into hardened adults.
in particular parades as a classic F.