Touché Amoré remain remarkably consistent on Spiral In A Straight Line

You won't catch these SoCal punks on next year's Warped Tour, that's for damn sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if they end up playing another thousand shows. Their lineup hasn't changed since 2010, a superhuman feat for any hardcore band, though their new album came at a time when they were just trying to keep it together. Spiral in a Straight Line does pull them in different directions, but as always, the results remain remarkably consistent.

Jeremy Bolm had a say in hardcore before Touché Amoré ever existed. As a kid, the band's freshly shaved vocalist covered the local D-beat for LA Weekly. Bolm now runs a successful podcast along with his own label and zine collection but the overwhelming response to Touché Amoré's last two albums put him in an uncomfortable position. Both albums dealt with his mother dying of cancer, though the one before this lamented becoming a spokesperson for other people's grief.

Spiral in a Straight Line doesn't continue that narrative arc — at least, not directly. Touché Amoré have led albums off on subtle stylistic detours, but this one barrels straight out your speakers. "Nobody's" is nothing but concentrated aggression. The band has never sounded tighter, locked into Tyler Kirby's hard-pressing bass groove and riffs that vroom like a well-oiled machine. As for where they're headed? Bolm isn't so sure: "As I fixate on the road ahead / It just winds and winds and winds".

Instead, Spiral in a Straight Line chases after this unruly train of thought. The album doesn't tie back to any specific trauma but a general, albeit heightened, level of performance anxiety. "I present confident / And that's the challenge", Bolm screams as co-guitarists Nick Steinhardt and Clayton Stevens thrust "Altitude" into a tailspin. The songs came pouring out once the band assembled at their home practice space, but holing away in the studio during L.A.'s second-rainiest season on record could've only contributed to the depressive thunderstorm that rolls over the proceedings. In hardcore circles, Touché Amoré are well-known for looking on the bright side There's still plenty of catharsis to be found, only now, even the cracks of light cast a shadow of doubt over whether they're still cut out for the role. "This Routine" positively jangles while struggling to juggle the competing priorities of life as a touring musician.

Despite all that emotional turbulence, Touché Amoré pull off their stylistic balancing act gracefully. Since breaking onto the Billboard chart, they've cranked up the melodies while leaving ample negative space for noisy experimentation. It's not their best album, but by sticking closely to this pattern, Spiral in a Straight Line is their most cohesive. While named after the cult filmmaker, "Hal Ashby" commands the spotlight with a crunchy crowd-pleaser of a chorus. “I’ll try anything! Anything! If it’ll course correct me". By my count, "Disasters" is the only time that drummer Elliot Babin shifts into full-blown ass-beating mode, but Bolm's throat-scraping bark keeps the post-hardcore digressions rough around the edges. Just as the band seem poised for a nasty breakdown, "Mezzanine" slowly collapses into stomach-churning dissonnance.

If there's a knock against this album, it's that the band don't go out on a ledge more often. Forgive me for bringing indie rock into the conversation, but Touché Amoré aren't so far removed from Spoon. Both manage to preserve their respective formulas without repeating themselves, which makes it easy to take a perfectly good stompfest like "The Glue" for granted. Maybe that's just a reflection on my incessant listening habits, but the best song on Spiral in a Straight Line is the one that takes its biggest leap of faith. "Subversion (Brand New Love)" interpolates the first of Sebadoh's many underappreciated classics as a slowcore crush. It's still a love song, but not even a guest appearance from Lou Barlow can recapture the warm and fuzzy nostalgia. "I can't see beyond the past behind me", Bolm screams as if stuck in a moment that he can't get out of.

Hardcore bands aren't meant to last this long. Heck, Bolm just turned 41 years old. Spiral in a Straight Line ends with its internal conflict unresolved, but that doesn't mean Touché Amoré are stuck spinning in circles. "Goodbye for Now" sends them out on a high note. Julien Baker returns to fan flames, her voice rising with all the weariness of a prayer. "I'll try and come around", Bolm repeats as the band uncork a signature gut punch that'll leave the pit misty-eyed long after this album fades to black.