Guillermo CastroBreakup records generally take on one of two forms: anger or reflection. The first is purgative, a caustic denunciation of who or what is perceived to have caused the rift. The other is confessional, an earnest attempt to speak truth to what occurred and find some means of reconciliation. Both are cathartic in their way, delivered with the hope of exorcising whatever demons remain in order to achieve closure and, hopefully, healing.
On a purely surface level, it’s easy to see why You Deal With the Trash, the sophomore release from Mighty, would be considered a breakup record. Its six songs, both expansive and thrilling, are littered with the language of grievance and crumbling faith. From the moment the needle drops on opener “Red Wrapped Thread,” the writing is on the wall. Barriers have been erected. Relationships are strained to the point of dysfunction. And whatever light remains is being eaten away by an encroaching darkness. Despite being couched in one of the group’s most dazzling and forward-thrusting songs, it’s clear the only way out is to embrace the inevitability of the end.
“This record was absolutely painful to make a lot of the time, and if I’m honest I had a hard time listening to it just to approve the masters,” says band founder and primary songwriter Angelo Fiaretti. “I wanted everything about this release from the music to the album art to depict the end of an era. Sometimes I dove so hard into that feeling, it’s just hurting me personally to look at it.”
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, of course. Coming off their 2018 self-titled debut—a record they were never entirely sure would see the light of day—the band felt confident about their future. Amidst an outpouring of positive press, there arrived a tour with emo stalwarts Saves the Day and performances at Manchester Orchestra’s annual Thanksgiving throwdown, the Stuffing. But in the end nothing worked out the way they thought it would. Opportunities eventually fizzled out and that hard-won confidence slowly eroded into doubt and dismay.
“For a long time it felt like a carrot was being dangled in front of our faces and it became exhausting,” Fiaretti explains. “I knew something wasn’t right and it had gotten to the point where I didn’t want to do music anymore at all. It felt like it was just hurting me and my mental health. Then Covid hit and I decided to move to Pennsylvania and isolate myself. That let me have this very strange satisfaction in essentially giving up.”
But then, one day, it all clicked. Sequestered and alone, Fiaretti’s process of self-reflection led him to realize he was under no obligation to maintain expectations or pursue music for anything other than personal desire and free expression. Suddenly it was as if an immense burden had been lifted and the liberating joy of creating returned. “I started making music every day by myself and I think that freedom breathed a new life and excitement into the project,” Fiaretti says.
So yes, a breakup record. But it’s also a symbol of rebirth, of a band rekindling their flame and pushing forward. As a work, You Deal With the Trash is doused in struggle and pain. But it can also be beautiful and, at times, audacious. There is little artifice to speak of; most of these songs rely on the tried and true formula of hooky verses and bursting choruses. And yet, the trio manage to wrangle considerable nuance and atmosphere out of these streamlined structures.
Take, for instance, the taut and moody “Bleed Out Girl.” Coming out of the shadow of the gloriously incandescent “Red Wrapped Thread,” it takes a moment to adjust to the darker surroundings. But once the chorus hits—all nervy grooves and smoldering hurt—it’s hard not to get swept away in the tumult. Sure, Fiaretti’s wounded queries may get all the attention, but you can credit drummer Cam Latham and bassist Joseph Dempsey for applying restraint and keeping the tension locked in.
I’ve written about Mighty’s consistency before and that holds especially true on this release. Every track is affecting and resonant—from the exquisite indie pop sparkle of “Glued” to the rough and tumble alt-rock of “Shoot Your Eye Out.” Featuring Manchester Orchestra’s Andy Hull on backup vocals, “David’s Park Bench” is another surefire highlight, a driving anthem about Fiaretti’s social anxiety and his resentment against those who question the validity of his life and art.
Underlying the album’s existential framework is a rebuke of traditional American values, specifically the suburban trinity of marriage, home, and work. Throughout the record, Fiaretti sings of “hearts trapped in cages,” anxiety, apathy, and the hope that one can “fake it till you make it.” He consistently alludes to how the expectations and limitations of that life can leave one feeling trapped and suffocated. Even the title implies a sense of resignation and exhaustion where obligations are shrugged off on others. For Fiaretti, these observations aren’t so much withering indictments as they sobering reminders of his own experiences.
“I’ve had a couple times in my life where I got too close to the fire of a warped sense of domestication and suburban American life and it freaked me out,” he says. “I’ve watched people bury themselves in money and pills and be so endlessly unhappy. It’s really awkward and unsettling to watch.”
As the record comes to close with “Temporary in Dirt,” Fiaretti appears to outline a kind of somber fatalism. With the song lasting just over a minute, it’s a quick denouement, but it’s a critical one. Accompanied by chirping birds and the jangly strum of an acoustic, Fiaretti laments “Even if you put it in the ground, it’s gonna find a way to still sprout out.” The suggestion is that all this anguish and heartache is inevitable—even if you bury it or push it out of your heart, it will still make its way into the world. To some that may seem hopelessly defeating. But rather than being a self-pitying dirge, Fiaretti insists it’s a means to empowerment and clawing past the demons that will always arise to block your path.
“It’s never healthy to bury your pain or distract yourself from it because it’ll come back around and [you’ll] feel worse later on,” he argues. “I don’t think I’d view it directly as fatalism. It’s more an understanding of the struggle of life, not a reason to give up because of existential dread. I think being aware of past pains and mistakes can help you prepare for the inevitable issues you may have in the future.”
Ostensibly billed as a breakup record, You Deal With the Trash is ultimately so much more. It’s both a dark, anguished embrace of an end and the sound of a band roaring back to life.
You Deal With the Trash is out today and can be streamed or purchased via Bandcamp.
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