Russell RockwellThe ideas of impermanence and transience have long been topics underpinning punk and post-punk records. On their new album, however, Deep State address such existential questions on the brink of exhaustion while mining four decades of rock and roll history. For those keeping tabs, it’s been five years since the Athens band released their debut, and over the half-decade since the four friends have fine-tuned their formula while staying true to a smoky bar rock aesthetic.
There’s a precedent for thoughtful, old-school power-pop in the region, but on The Path to Fast Oblivion Deep State’s appreciation for the fizzy jams of the late ‘70s is buried beneath a wall of searing guitars that are rich and surprisingly decadent for such a skeletal album. The driving grooves that characterized the band’s 2017 effort Thought Garden remain, but the singalong pop-punk hooks have gracefully been retired in favor of more ragged aesthetic. You could argue the sweaty intimacy that made their early work so charming has been repackaged into a more mature form, although the edges haven’t been polished any more than necessary.
The album is a communal affair, featuring guest appearances from friends and family, and it’s this sense of kinship that buoys it in the haunted, hollow face of escapism, whether that be through alcohol or other means. Oblivion, as addressed in the record, is a destination for those who have experienced trauma, who feel trapped or oppressed. As a town, Athens is a perfect lens to view this concept of isolation within a community. Despite its proximity to Atlanta and the steady turnover among the artists who reside there, Athens’ music scene is remarkably insular, revolving eternally around the service industry and a checkered music biz pedigree. It supports an arts culture given to self-reference and introspection, which is on full display throughout the record, but also fosters cyclical ideas of success in a world where careers in music and dead-end jobs are so intertwined as to be indistinguishable.
Most of the tracks on the album are only a couple of minutes long, and the band take advantage of the brevity by hitting a theme at full speed and then backing off and letting it marinate beneath instrumental squalls. “Time Unrivaled” begins as an ode to nostalgia that barely has a minute to take shape before the band abandon it and power into the slacker anthem for exhaustion, “Dozer.” Throughout The Path to Fast Oblivion, Deep State resist the urge to meander into philosophical swamps by remaining locked into ardent jams that attack with gale force. Even their most misanthropic anthems come off as endearing, as they pull the listener out the muck with daring guitar licks and boundless camaraderie.
The immediacy of the faster tracks is accented by the few slow cuts that punctuate the album, allowing some insight into the band’s brooding mindset. From the indulgent self-criticisms of “You Are the Worst Person I Know,” to the plodding interlude, “Oblivion,” which revolves around a phone call from jail, the lines between salvation and a few bucks needed to get ahead in life become blurred. Indeed, by the time closing track “Captain” fades into reflection, it still isn’t clear whether the group intended to reach out a hand to bring us back from the brink or draw us a map so we can careen off the edge with purposeful abandon. Maybe existing in Athens is the fastest path to oblivion, or maybe it’s playing in a DIY band anywhere in America, but with this album, Deep State show they’re determined not to slip quietly into the night. With a resounding toast, the beer sloshes over the rim while lovers, friends, and family are embraced, and the last chords ring out with honesty—and maybe even a little hope.
Deep State will celebrate the release of The Path to Fast Oblivion tonight at the EARL alongside Curt Castle (Record Release) and Grand Vapids (Record Release). Doors open at 9 p.m. Admission is $8. 21+ to enter.
More Info
Basecamp: deepstate.bandcamp.com
Facebook: @deepstatega
Instagram: @deeepstate
SoundCloud: @deeepstate