Introducing The Compendium

The word itself means “a collection of concise but detailed information about a particular subject”, so think of a canon or anthology except it sounds more esoteric than it actually is, which is pretty in line with my aesthetic. It’s going to serve (I hope) as a collection of a single artist’s releases, usually chronological, maybe some less than official releases like EPs, mixtapes, live albums, box sets or what have you. I’ll rereview things I think I didn’t get right the first time around or I may not, nothing is ever definitive with music. This is just an attempt to distill a band or artist’s living catalogue into its essence, what went right, what went wrong, and how, release by release. It’ll look very similar to my usual posts, as in capsules, except it’ll only be about one set of musicians making it an easier conceptual read. Lining all your ducks up and whatnot. In honor of their new record, for a its big debut I figured I’d go with a group of sometimes suburban sometimes urban white boys who know southeastern PA ennui like it’s the only thing they can subsist on, probably because it pays for their mortgages: The Wonder Years.

The Wonder Years are six boys who became men over the course of their career from Lansdale Pennsylvania, about 40 minutes from the City of Brotherly Love. Consisting of front man and yelp/singer Dan “Soupy” Campbell, guitarist and tenor Matt Brasch, guitarist with good looks Casey Cavaliere, guitarist/keyboardist with big beard Nick Steinborn, bassist with big beard and throaty howls Josh Martin, and drummer Mike Kennedy. The long and short is that under the leadership of Campbell they initially made music under the umbrella of “Realist Pop Punk”, a term of their own invention that conveys their intention to be literarily and narratively ambitious within a genre long derided for its bratty appeal to unruly suburban teens. Over the course of one record that they disowned and three more that document a fight-for-survival bildungsroman they became a Band To Believe In because of Campbell’s lyricism. His specificity and urgency made his personal problems easy to latch on to for the mentally ill teens and young adults of post-Recession America. His struggle was their struggle, and being backed up by the kind of momentum that allows aggression and anxiety to be worked out in real time, well that’s the basis for a cult following and steady stream of income, right?

The follow ups, a rumination on death, a focus on unification in the wake of “division” (see: Trumpism), and now a hard look at the anxieties of fatherhood after finally getting his SSRI dosage correct respectively range from interesting to listenable. None are perfect – despite that, the cult that grew up around their tales of perseverance has only grown larger and gained more access to disposable income. I’ve seen them 5 times myself, and I knew every word 4 of them, they were my favorite band for a stretch of my later teen years so I did in fact drink their Kool-Aid. The secret is not just how vulnerable they are but how their posturing as working-class suburban makes them seem more salt of the earth and trustworthy. That every member has at least a bachelor’s and Soupy has his Masters of Ed. and a stepmother who was high level administration at his alma mater Temple really doesn’t matter for those consuming his art. Though it should be noted that despite his writing for ostensibly people his own age The Wonder Years’ fanbase has always skewed younger by some 6 years on average. Teenagers and young adults hearing the resilience of Suburbia, or the acceptance of The Greatest Generation merely have to insert their own ages and locations into Soupy’s vignettes to find themselves. And in the navel-gazey world of high school listening to relatable music is probably healthier than doing something reckless on a Friday night.

Get Stoked On It! [Hopeless 2007]

 A group of late teens and early twentysomethings gets together and makes a song cycle that wouldn’t sound out of place at one of those frat houses they portend to despise. 2.1/5

Won’t be Pathetic Forever [Hopeless 2008]

 The transition between caustic suburban fuckheads and keep-moving-to-prevent-from-sinking earnestness comes with growing pains even as the Warped Tour stereotypes it’s wrapped up in make it go down easier. Inspirational Verse: “My friends and I, we’re all fucked on the inside”. 3.3/5

The Upsides [Hopeless 2010]

Still slinging vitriol and stupid jokes about their surroundings – at least they have a sense of humor despite how male it is. Just as well, these 6 doods from Philadelphia by way of nearby Lansdale Pennsylvania have found their niche in their own incongruity. Led by the yelp prone Dan “Soupy” Campbell’s railing against his deeply felt depression in the post undergraduate malaise that can indeed follow it; this band wants you to know that they’re okay amidst the details of people and places you’ll never meet nor see. Even though his tales about tour life and the greater SEPTA area aren’t as visceral or as literary as his heroes Finn, Oberst, and Darnielle, the speed that none of them could try to match adds physicality so that whatever hope is there feels earned. Backed by both bassist Josh Martin’s throaty howls and guitarist Matt Brasch’s tenor harmonies, Soupy has a knack for conveying ground level observations about how his own self loathing manifests around his friends with melody and friction despite how irritatingly buzzsaw the guitars really are. Because when you level with this band where their fans are, teenagers who aren’t used to the strong emotions and social breakdowns that high school can cause “I’m not sad anymore” sounds not just like a mantra but an end goal. Before the grand finale comes a bit of advice from a (thank god) lady friend of his that Soupy and plenty of beaten down listeners need; “the whole world’s full of losers, if you get the chance to win, take it”. 3.7/5

Suburbia, I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing [Hopeless 2011]

Mike Kennedy’s drums are massive, the choruses are anthemic, it’s the platonic idea of what their fanbase thinks The Wonder Years is and certainly their first great record. Soupy’s anxieties are now grounded in real life forks in the road: do I move back in with my parents? How do I handle this breakup? Was my hometown always this sketchy? Though clearly borrowing from others during The Boss’s sanctification as an indie rock hero, this gets the job done in the same way he did, names and places. Such specificity, especially in the way the Recession blew out prospects for recent grads, reflects that they were a different kind of working class; picking up day shifts instead of careers with thousands of dollars in debt waiting to take their earnings from them. But as for why it’s so fiercely defended is because of the honest realizations he has throughout that feel like The Truth to those who crave hope: “I’m not a self-help book I’m just a fucked up kid”; “Growing up means watching my heroes turn human in front of me”; “I spent the winter writing songs about getting better/and if I’m being honest, I’m getting there”. Soupy’s right, he’s not Allen Ginsburg. Not even close. But his hubris in attempting to try something framed by his hero made the band a set of heroes in their own right to a generation of depressive young folk. 4.3/5

The Greatest Generation [Hopeless 2013]

The cultists will always hold Suburbia up as their favorite despite the fact that this follow-up not only blew past it commercially but creatively too. Six men who know that their sound is something to hold onto successfully distill everything they’d been trying up to this point. Piano ballads, themes, callbacks, and motifs aside there’s more going on in a human sense and finally a more explicitly American sense. As Soupy turns their lens inward he discovers and accepts that his constant hangover of sadness isn’t letting up and the only thing to do is adjust and cope with the changes that his greatest challenge, transition to adulthood, will bring. Yes, it’s pretty self-involved but the battles they manifest are their own gestalt form of empathy because they’re about self-actualization. “Come fellow saddies, we know how you feel and put it to music so you can feel comfort and community”. Some will chortle at the drama and finale, which is fine, there’s many more who’ll utilize it as the ashram it was designed to be. 4.6/5

No Closer to Heaven [Hopeless 2015]

Their death album and their blue album, after all when you’ve perfected your sound to the point of writer’s block there’s nothing else to do but push outwards, eh? It’s also their guitar album, three and even four guitarists offer textures, leads, riffs, power chords, fills, but no solos though. Their first one that signifies with true rage as well instead of the usual self-help earnestness. Unfortunately, the grandiose momentum with which it introduces itself falls apart nearly halfway through and never fully recovers despite a vitriolic screed on toxic masculinity’s role in the death of people of color (still under the Obama administration) and a love letter to Soupy’s future wife. As their avatar image of the meek and the weak trying to become strong shrinks away almost immediately and the Catholic imagery throughout invites speculation that Soupy’s relationship with God has shifted, especially on the paean for his dead friend, there’s a real sense that this might be a wall. 4.0/5

Sister Cities [Hopeless 2018]

Meretricious apoliticality applied to cosmopolitan sadness in an attempt to create a big tent and remind listeners that no matter their differences they’re all human. But how much is just an attempt to blunt any loss of ticket sales due to the band’s clear leftism in the age of new and evil ways of speaking? 3.2/5

The Hum Goes on Forever [Hopeless 2022]

I’d think that this treatise on post-pandemic paternal fears would hit more if it weren’t such an obvious attempt to reconstruct what made The Wonder Years so vital a decade ago. Alas as our protagonist focuses more on conjuring up the same emotions it becomes not just rote but unnecessary. The last one was cringe, this is boring. 3.4/5