Unlike the actual architecture commonplace in the suburbs, Suburban Architecture’s self-titled EP is honest, and full of soul.
Independently released on February 1, Suburban Architecture has influences of emo and folk punk. The EP’s somewhat ‘unpolished’ qualities work entirely to its advantage, avoiding the sameness plaguing some facets of the modern music industry that churns out records with songs reminiscent of those labyrinthine streets lined with identical houses.
Even the band’s name is an apt metaphor for their approach to music – hailing from Torbay, Suburban Architecture possesses a confessional quality that confronts suffering head-on rather than thinly obscuring it with picket fencing.
Suburban Architecture opens with “Goodbye Letter,” a sprawling, stream-of-consciousness song, half spoken-word and half sung. Singer Damien Fitzgerald derails a hurried story of a relationship gone awry, the romantic allure of unhealthy coping mechanisms, and how we attach memories to senses.
The opening track is significantly more lo-fi than the rest of the record, but it’s a great segue into louder songs with healthy guitar mixes and appropriately detailed licks characteristic of the emo genre.
“Piggish” is also a standout track on the band’s self-titled project for its charming production choices and lyrical narrative.
The song paints a vivid picture of feeling especially aimless during the colder months, describing a past event personally formative to the speaker that “started in a shitty little parking lot / where I got myself so lost.” Nothing screams ‘Newfoundland suburbia’ like hanging out in parking lots because there is, quite literally, nothing else to do.
In this way, Suburban Architecture situates itself within a larger network of Newfoundland-based alternative bands who creatively interrogate just how monotonous living here can feel sometimes, exacerbated by the rain, fog, and various states of uncertainty.
I’m enjoying listening and relating to these types of projects as they come out, but seriously – are you guys okay?
On that note, “Province” describes the feeling of growing up hating a place, only to feel homesick once you leave it. A recurring theme throughout the EP appears to be reflecting on dealing with substance abuse as well, something quite normalized in Newfoundland, as folks attempt to dispel some of that monotony.
The final song, “End-Roll,” features what I think is the best guitar work on the album, and it ends by repeating the lyrics“I can’t change / I couldn’t change for the better/ even if I tried.”
The EP is fantastic, but I respectfully disagree with this sentiment. It takes a lot of courage to admit defeat, reject the ease and ‘unchanging’ of suburban stagnation, admit what scared you before, and what scares you moving forward, still. With Suburban Architecture, it’s clear that the band members are ready to be honest – and admirably so.
The band announced their split in tandem with their EP release, citing their lead singer moving away as the reason for the “end of suburbia.”
However, the EP exists as a great-sounding snapshot of change, heartbreak, catharsis, and most importantly, the unique introspection that accompanies residing in, as I call it, ‘St. John’s adjacent but not quite.’
