The final quarter of this year has proven phenomenally busy, barricading me from listening to or writing about anything in the way of new music, really. I’ve read articles from EIN friends that stoked a relentless urge to review that I could not feasibly quell. What’s more, I’d hoped to get around to reviewing this particular album for months, ever since my pal and EIN veteran David dropped a thoroughly enjoyable Weekly Featured Artist article on Nashville’s Friendship Commanders just prior to the release of their latest record, MASS. I’d not heard the music of Buick Audra and accomplice Jerry Roe before, but have been a fervent listener since, as well as delving back to experience 2020’s HOLD ON TO YOURSELF.
MASS is heavy in a number of ways, something explored in great detail in the WFA. This piqued my interest both musically and emotionally, while breeding a touch of resentment towards myself for not being able to initiate a write-up of my own. However, they say that you make time for the things you love, so here I am finally getting to write about Friendship Commanders and MASS, even though it has been in our ears for a few months now. Why? Because I would hate to see such a great record of melodic rock become a permanently missed connection for any of you.
Now, to give something a name gives it tangible power. The moniker Friendship Commanders may appear contradictory at first: friendship cannot be commanded, surely? Rather, it grows and blossoms organically, fed by mutual respect, trust, communication, and loyalty (and many other factors). No friendship is impervious to harm, trial, or even outright collapse, mind you. Still, I’m not here to unpick my interpretations of friendship and social etiquettes, though you’ll find it to be at the heart of MASS. I will say that the true origin of the band’s name is an interesting tale involving a jacket and a connection made in the unlikeliest of ways – again, I refer you to Buick’s own rendition of the story.
Laying aside my arbitrary musings about the band’s intriguing name, I can at least attest to the ‘commanding’ properties on display across MASS. As a created outpouring of work experience, it’s full of contrast. It’s distorted, pounding, and direct in very literal ways, yet also melodic, softening, and symbolic. It compels you as a listener, and its core themes pull at the synapses as much as at the heart, hearkening to moments and memories that may well prove profoundly relatable as fellow citizens of the world in its current state. As Buick herself puts it, ‘As vulnerable and personal as the project is, it’s also an album about friendship (what it is and what it is not), identity, trying to stay alive when life makes that feel daunting, and finding ways to be free.’
That theme of commanding plays out strongly across MASS as the duo’s bold, metallic songs are presented to us with a real fire in their belly. Each one garners attention with ease through a musical concoction that paints highlights of ‘90s grunge and a little sludge onto the backdrop of melodic rock they create. Influenced in no small measure over the years by the likes of Soundgarden‘s Badmotorfinger andAlice In Chains, there’s a palpable presence of these formative sounds in the hulking riffs, thudding bass, and tight, expressive drum work that yields a more than fitting tribute without superficiality.
Then there’s Buick’s vocal performance, tying close to the towering riffs that dominate the landscape of MASS. There’s a raw thrust to her voice, calling passionately back, as before, to great female vocalists of days gone by: Poly Styrene, Debbie Harry and Siouxsie Sioux – women at the forefront of punk (and its principles) – but also the likes of Brody Dalle and Skunk Anansie from more recent times. The commonality? They’re women who loudly (and rightly) shun the preposterous expectations, impositions, and restrictions placed on them by wider society. Channelling these creative forebearers in tune with her own experiences, Buick’s strength of voice and message is at times more subdued, but can most often be found reaching for its very limits. Notes are propelled unflinchingly to stratospheric heights of sustained intensity, cavernous in capacity but without ever crashing out. Buick audibly gives each song everything she’s got while retaining control even at the very brink of apparent collapse.
These vocals are combined with a musicality that is equally as powerful – crushing at times, even – but never domineering; the grooves are loud and designed to get you moving, but never extinguish the importance of the lyrical matter accompanying them. MASS is an invitation for listeners to embark on open roads with open minds in order to digest its weighty themes – to go places in multiple senses of the word. The album name itself was even partly chosen as a reference to the American state, entrenched once again in personal fibres of Buick’s life. It’s the sort of sound that beckons flailing limbs and sweat-drenched skin, of throwing yourself around and lifting up your voice, and the inevitable sense of cathartic release that follows such an explosion of energy.
As you follow the album along, you’ll hear everything I’ve spoken of and more, though I’m loathe to take too much away from the joy of discovering the details for yourself. “Blue” unveils sumptuous harmonies and thick distortion that is more swaddling than oppressive, whereas “Fail” is a little more dissonantin its charm. “We Were Here” and “High Sun” punch hard too, hauling out more harmonies and rooting themselves in grounded basslines that rumble before the visceral lyrical callout of “Vampire”. Each and every one of these entwines the ardent delivery of Buick’s singing with mammoth instrumentals that tear away without relent, and we’ve barely scratched the surface.
“Distortion” is aptly named, flaunting tints of that dense, grungy bite I spoke of earlier. It’s also a fine example of the unity between vocals and bass, as they reflect one other in synchronicity to deliver a double-whammy of tuneful hooks. This is done frequently throughout MASS, to great effect, and really drives home some of those powerhouse melodies. “A Retraction” is a curiosity of a track: as its opening riff and first verse unfold, we’re treated to one of the more ominous auditory vibes on MASS, then it expands into a chorus progression that seems rooted in arguably warmer waters. Then, “Move” perfectly encapsulates that aforementioned vocal grit, even throwing in an unexpected but wholly welcome key change. Dwelling on it now, those feel like a staple of a bygone era of rock music – one that has seemingly dwindled in usage now – which is a shame, given their general ability to heighten intensity and interaction from a crowd…but I digress.
At the album’s end, we are treated to an unexpected and thought-provoking serving of spoken word. Given what’s preceded it, “Dissonance” is utterly disarming, offering insights and further context into moments previously explored on MASS. It’s also yet another instance of Friendship Commanders being, well, commanding: it demands attention as Buick tenderly bears her heart and mind without the accompaniment of Jerry or anything beside her own voice. It’s a stark and enigmatic finish to the LP, for sure, and I would also compel you to seriously consider reading Buick’s accompanying memoir, which only enriches the experience of this record even further.
Ultimately, when it comes to MASS, friendship isn’t the only thing being commanded here. In the previous article, David alluded to a sense of camaraderie and familiarity borne from the trials and tempests, the uncertainties and unfulfillments that helped carve MASS into existence. I get that; I feel it too, though not for all the same reasons as my pal. Yet, as potent as that perceived sense of kinship is, a more simplistic but equally arresting quality lies at the heart of this record. There are no gimmicks here to bait you into listening – it stands firmly on the merits of excellent songwriting and boisterously enjoyable performances from a hugely talented duo. It’s an added bonus that when you drill deeper into the melodic rock of Friendship Commanders, you find a richness and relatability in the messages of MASS. Perhaps you’ll even find that it’s something to bolster you in your own times of turmoil: as Helen Keller once said, ‘Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.’
