“You’re no good for me, and I’m no good for you.”
Over the course of their five previous studio albums, Citizen have proven themselves surprisingly malleable studio craftsmen. After debuting with 2013’s emo revival staple Youth, the Ohio group have pushed their sound in different directions on each subsequent release. After going deeper into their grunge and shoegaze influences, particularly on Everybody Is Going to Heaven (2015), Citizen have most recently pulled from dance-punk and post-punk revival on Life in Your Glass World (2021) and Calling the Dogs (2023). This group has become adept at pulling from these disparate influences while making them feel like extensions of their core sound, never seeming like they’ve lost their core identity.
In this context, their new album Halcyon Blues has the feeling of a group supremely comfortable in their collective skin. Pulling from elements of all their past releases without feeling like a cheap retread, Halcyon Blues may not be one of Citizen’s more boundary-pushing releases – but it is a great demonstration of their continued shared chemistry and emotional resonance.
Opener “Good Fortune” is a succinct encapsulation of what to expect, retaining the post-punk grooves of Citizen’s past two albums while placing a greater emphasis on grungy distortion and hard-hitting drums. Overall, this set of songs is a return to a darker sonic aesthetic. The indie pop influence that was especially prevalent on Calling the Dogs still shows up on occasion, such as on the more subdued, bright tones of the title track, but it is largely de-emphasized in favor of the emo vulnerability with which the band made their name.
Standout track “Always the Last One to Leave” does a superb job threading the difference between the different ends of the band’s sound, entering with subdued keys and acoustic strumming before waves of melancholy shoegaze distortion come crashing in during the chorus. It is one of the most hauntingly gorgeous songs Citizen has recorded to date, and a great reminder of the band’s ability to push the boundaries of their scene’s songwriting conventions. “Matador” is another highlight, shifting between slow-building acoustic verses and a dark chorus driven by a sinister bass line and pulsing electronics.
More than a decade in their recording career, Citizen have refined years of experimentation into an expanded core sound that feels entirely their own. Halcyon Blues is in some ways the sound of the band settling into themselves, yet it is a testament to their talent that the album does so without feeling safe or stale. As the shimmering melancholy of closing track “Anne” lets the listener down gently, Citizen prove beyond a doubt that they still have plenty of creative gas left in the tank. This album offers something for fans of any era of Citizen, and in its unification of the band’s disparate sounds, offers many potential avenues for them to explore in the future.
