*This review was composed by Adrienne Fisher and edited by Erik van Rheenen
Young Statues, a four-piece indie-rock group originating from the South NJ/Philadelphia area first made their mark with their self-titled 2011 full-length record adopted and lovingly put out by Run For Cover Records. While, on that record it felt at times that we were running repeatedly through the same track, or the same part, there’s a bigger and more conscious effort here on Age Isn’t Ours to incorporate a distinct expansion on the songwriting foundations that Young Statues have established for themselves.
The overall aesthetic and a lot of the themes from the 2011 release come along for the ride on the new EP – the heartfelt nostalgia, the lingering romantics – they’re all present and accounted for. But, with the new songs also come some freshly developed stylistic influences; hints of Americana rock n’ roll, a dash of 50’s vintage, and even some undiluted moments of folk-rock all have their place over the course of the record.
The EP opens with the romantics of “Eraser,” laying out a quiet and reflective overtone before gathering itself up to burst into a lively, delightful pop-indie jam. From the very start to the very end, the vocal melodies on Age Isn’t Ours take on a life of their own; the infectious nature of the hooks is just as sticky as they are interesting. “So You Wait” brings a tense, stompy rhythm with a wonderfully catchy melody, easily side-stepping the pitfalls of sounding too sugary or amateur. In fact, Age Isn’t Ours straddles well the gap between writing good, interesting music while still possessing a heavy amount of accessibility, a trait that is sometimes difficult to achieve.
“Ghost Passenger,” the first track publicly released from the EP, is the Limbeck song of the record, delivering the same sort of happy, heartland sensibilities found on Hi, Everything’s Great (there’s your RIYL!) and anchoring itself as one of the strongest and most concrete songs Young Statues has done to date. “My Only Friend,” in a turn of style, stands out in all it’s folky, porch-performance glory – a pulsating bass line that seems it could only be played on an upright, yawning electric guitars juxtaposed against the acoustic baseline of the song, and vocals complemented with a cavalcade of strong backup harmonies, unifying all the sonic elements into one hell of a song. Closing track “Foolish” features a bit of a doo-wop infusion, flinging about “ba ba ba badada”s in the chorus to the pleasure of 50’s vintage-enthusiasts everywhere, and creating a big, escalating conclusion that is both sweeping and majestic.