Cold World, the brand new studio album from Canadian punk veterans The Flatliners, is the sound of a band free to make what they want with the people they want to make it with, to try to carve out some space to demonstrate a different way of doing things — a space where bands share credit equally, where friends grow and work together over decades, a space where stability is the reward for sticking to your vision.
Maybe the greatest resistance that any artist can offer today is the radical act of stability — the same four people, friends since they were kids, playing music together because they have been compelled to for nearly their entire lives, 24 years and counting.
That vision has evolved into a consistent confidence that gives The Flatliners the freedom to experiment with the edges of their sound while grounded by each other, locking out the decay of the world outside. The band fought through the fire of their last record only to find a landscape of debasement and erasure, and an increasingly cold world for all of us to live in.
The textures of Cold World itself are anything but comfortable and familiar. The band’s airtight foundation of bassist Jon Darbey and drummer Paul Ramirez continues to drive with a learned, casual urgency on rippers like “Inner Peace” and “Burn,” while Chris Cresswell and Scott Brigham deploy the controlled chaos of their shredding two-guitar attack, enveloping the listener on songs like “Pulpit” and “Whyte Light.” As the album ends, we may be drifting out into darkness. But if we’re lucky, we can choose who we drift with.
