Frustration with a dead-end circumstance has a unique flavor the first time it happens to you. Sure, you might experience it again after college, during an unfulfilling job, or in the midst of that foreboding mid-life crisis we hear so much about. But the very first time that frustration comes it rockets through you with unprecedented fervor, knocking you out faster than you can cry “John Hughes.”
The members of The Districts remember this feeling well, having just graduated from high school in the small-town Pennsylvania suburb of Lititz. But the songs coming out of frontman Rob Grote go a step further, unraveling over the course of A Flourish and a Spoil in a howl of regret and anger that somehow maintains the fresh-faced anxiety of adolescence alongside the shocking hollowness of a more matured sadness.
The record’s distorted riffs and live-show sound reminiscent of producer John Congleton’s other projects (Cloud Nothings and Modest Mouse, to name a few) and fits The Districts like a glove. Album opener “4th and Roebling” and 9-minute epic “Young Blood” scream through your gut, showcasing the fuzz-rock physicality that’s so important to their live performances and to the album as a whole. “Peaches” and “Chlorine” are other standout tracks, but by far the most heart-wrenching is the lo-fi “Suburban Smell.” The track dives into the angst and privilege of suburban life, and comes to a head with Grote looking on in disgust as a child with a mental disability is bullied. He sings “I am not like them” but also can’t summon the gumption to do anything about it, nodding to the way shitty situations can make us a little more shitty ourselves.
A Flourish and a Spoil isn’t a perfect album—tracks like “Sing the Song” and “Hounds” have a needless level of distortion and reach for poetry in a way that can come off as a contrived reach for greatness. But for every overly-warped moment and grasp at sincerity, The Districts have a moment of real vulnerability that’s as addictive as their sound.