“When I check in, it’s like I’m feeling for a pulse.”
Few bands have a handle on storytelling and emotion the way Canada’s Arm’s Length do. The emo band have a sardonically sad approach to music, with lyrics that are often as scathing as they are poignant. Musically, they lie somewhere on the boundary between Midwest emo and post hardcore, with an intricacy to their songwriting that matches their emotional approach perfectly. Forming in 2018, they released their debut EP What’s Mine Is Yours in 2019.
Their debut album in 2022, Never Before Seen, Never Before Found, is one of my favourite albums of the 2020s so far, telling a hauntingly solemn story of nostalgic reminiscing intertwined with the more scarring parts of childhood. The album struck a chord with many, including myself, with its blend of catchiness and earnestness. To say I am excited for their follow-up, There’s a Whole World Out There, is a massive understatement.
There’s a certain magic to Arm’s Length’s music; it carries an uncanny familiarity, despite having never lived through the experiences that frontman and guitarist Allen Steinberg writes about. It’s a strange sense of comfort, and it’s all too present on There’s a Whole World Out There. Right from opener “The World”, wistful clean tones gently guide you along to a warm-yet-somber ambience that envelops your ears effortlessly. A natural continuation of the sound from Never Before Seen, Never Before Found, the song bleeds with an intense feeling of longing that’s become signature to Arm’s Length. Guitarist Jeremy Whyte delivers a beautiful, reverb-heavy solo amidst the wall of sound, before the track climaxes on an emotional release of a slow-down. Charged with raw emotion, Steinberg laments regretfully of his overstepping out of concern for a person in his life.
This enigmatic character, presumably based on a close childhood friend of Steinberg’s, was the central character of Never Before Seen, Never Before Found’s narrative. The story continues here on There’s a Whole World Out There as a steady bridge is built across both albums. Where it previously took a more morose approach previously, this album is noticeably more bittersweet; still tinged in melancholy, but there’s a certain uplifting quality to it that permeates the sonic choices made here.
“You Ominously End” displays this new dimension of Arm’s Length’s sound in spectacular fashion. Cheery banjos and acoustic guitars to start the song almost make a misleading intro into a sappy, bluegrass-infused indie folk song, until it gets interrupted by an equally upbeat pop punk twist. Drummer Jeff Whyte matches this sarcastically hokey sound with a fast-paced beat to match. With a sound so happy it’s almost saccharine, I can’t help but find the juxtaposition with the bluntly macabre lyrics amusing. Chronicling a complicated and borderline detrimental relationship, this central character and their unstable mental health, it brazenly tells of their failed suicide attempt and the burden of being a confidant to them. With a cathartic breakdown on the bridge serving as yet another point of contrast to this deceptively cheerful track, the clash of mismatched ideas is executed masterfully, creating for a song that really does hit close to home (with lines like “When I check in, it’s like I’m feeling for a pulse”) while being, in a morbid sense, entertaining.
There’s a certain country-inspired flair to this album that really puts the Midwest in Midwest emo. Its inclusion is subtle and doesn’t overstay its welcome, working to further the wistful nature of this album. Apart from “You Ominously End”, “Fatal Flaw” also takes this on substantially. With its predominantly post-hardcore composition, the moments where the verses strip away make space for warm acoustic guitars and a country-style drum beat. It’s an interesting choice that works with how intentionally it’s executed. There’s a display of aggressive affection from Steinberg here as he almost pleads with his friend to see how much progress they’ve made in hindsight. I suppose there’s a message in here that we could all use from time to time. The banjos feature throughout the album, hidden in often verses and acting as a unifying sonic element. “Attic” begins on a stripped back, acoustic guitar-led supplemented with subtle piano notes. It opens up with the banjos forming a country rock-esque verse before returning to the familiar pop punk sound of the band. Ending on a banjo-backed solo from Whyte, the track displays yet again this unusual, yet well-executed blend of styles.
“The Weight” drives the pop punk part of Arm’s Length sound into the spotlight with its energetic and upbeat disposition. With cutting lines about an eating disorder, Arm’s Length craft yet another deceptively happy song. On the bridge, the delivery of the opening line “In the water” has an uncanny resemblance to the hook of “In The Water” by pop punk band Head North. It’s such a minute detail that it could very well be a coincidence, but given Arm’s Length’s knack for lyrical references to previous tracks, this would very much be in character for them. Late album cut “Halley” also pulls off this pop punk style excellently; yet again possessing heart-rending lyrics that have no right sounding this upbeat. The lines hold absolutely no punches (Pray your service lands on a leap year, you want no one to be there. Your ghost felt guilty when they grieved.) as they continue the conversation on wanting this friend to stay. Intricately emotional lead lines from Whyte are featured throughout the song, adding a layer of musical depth that really completes the song. “Genetic Lottery” also follows in this direction, with the abundance of lead lines throughout the sultry, homely atmospheres. On the other end, “Funny Face” pushes in a more aggressive post-hardcore direction, creating for one of Arm’s Length’s heavier songs in relation to their discography.
The album’s slower cuts bring the pace down at the right moments, giving a chance for more retrospective moments amidst the brazen expressions of emotions. Early on in the track list, “Palinopsia” is a sombre song of reminiscing. Filled with post-rock textures and strings In the background, the atmosphere crafted is a comforting soundscape for the rueful lyricisms of Steinberg. Mid-album pit-stop “Early Onset” takes a break from convention as a fully acoustic ballad. The tranquil plucking and strumming supplemented by strings create a lush soundscape, a perfect backdrop for a song of admiration. As the strings pick up in an ending crescendo, Arm’s Length displays their propensity for emotional impact, even with just three main components.
Self-deprecating themes are a hallmark of Arm’s Length’s sound, displayed on this album as bluntly as before. Narrowing in on “The Wound”, the track lyrically goes back and forth between aspirations for having children and a defeatist, hopeless attitude towards the idea. Given the perceived hopelessness of his own life, the line “when I swear on my life, we both know that the stakes aren’t high” sums up the song perfectly. There’s a certain, humbling relatability to the despondently hopeful content of this song.
The album ends on the cinematic “Morning Person”, with a heartstring-pulling wistfulness enveloping my ears within seconds of the song starting. Marrying the elements of post-hardcore, country, and pop punk used throughout the album, the track ebbs and flows between intensities beautifully. The dynamics of the song are wonderfully pulled off, with a brief, tremolo-backed blast beat section leads into a gorgeous post-rock buildup, dropping into stripped back Americana section that gradually builds back into an ethereal ambience. It’s a fittingly grandiose ending to an emotional heavyweight of an album; a last hit of catharsis that seals the entire package.
The balmy summer afternoon when I first listened to this album perfectly characterised the experience of There’s a Whole World Out There; familiar, somewhat unpleasant, yet filled with an addictive melancholy. There’s no doubt that being confronted with our biggest fears and insecurities is uncomfortable, but the uncompromisingly sincere manner in with Arm’s Length bares their souls provides a dichotomous sense of belonging. Driven by a host of recognizable, yet innovative soundscapes, Arm’s Length fully invests their efforts into creating something that resonates as deeply as it cuts.
9/10
There’s a Whole World Out There releases on the 16th of May via Pure Noise Records. Pre-order and merch links for the album can be found here.