Twenty One Pilots - Clancy (Album Review)

Twenty One Pilots – Clancy
Released: May 24, 2024

Lineup

Tyler Joseph // Vocals, Guitars, Programming
Josh Dun // Drums, Backing Vox

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The universe of Twenty One Pilots is one that is not merely shrouded in that of an alt band’s rise to the top, but an unwavering and powerful performance of lore, narrative, and community-driven storytelling prevailing. Resurfacing from the trenches of their last album, Scaled and Icy – a concept-driven story with a focus on entertainment as the medium of corruption, and a more focused in lens of the protagonists of the world of DEMA under harsh control and futile, forced expressionism, the band has shifted their sights. With a darker, more haunting and introspective undertone, Clancy strips the naive and vibrant tones of the past work to unveil the forbidden truths, daunting challenges and the work that blossoms from the enablement of creativity and strength in one’s own identity.

The band’s return was marked with the drop of ‘Overcompensate’, a reignition of past theories, and an invitation back into the complex and layered environment that demands all of its listeners. The track places emphasis upon the phrase “Sahlo Folina”, meaning to enable creative expressions, and perhaps a reference to the protagonist being free from the performative stakes of the Scaled and Icy era. You can read more about what I had to say about this track here.

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‘Next Semester’ serves as a melancholic and heart-wrenching reflection upon the past, and feelings that continue to permeate after their hasty arrival. Thoughts that become inextricable with one’s own psyche and interior. Using a very 2000s alt flair, the song flows through musically vibrant sections. It remains one of the strongest tracks on the album, and is one of those songs you can’t help but find yourself singing at random points in time. Thematically, the song holds sharp ties to early tracks like ‘Taxi Cab’, reflecting back to moments in that track, and the lessons learnt from the lowest moments discussed. So too, focuses are shifted and new voices within the story are explored. Despite its fast and loud approach, this song feels to be one of the most viscerally upsetting tracks on the album. There is something so poignant about Joseph’s pleas, and the small nuisances of the dialogue that make it utterly gut-wrenching upon listening. This too, is a standout from the album, and so too, a standout from the Pilots’ extensive discography.

Following the release of sequential single releases, ‘Backslide’ follows suit. Its presentation marks itself to be almost like ‘Morph’s brother. It elevates itself with the same echoing and morphed background vocals, nonchalant spoken verses, broken up by a gruelling and emotive chorus. ‘Backslide’ holds a particular focus on the past, becoming a parable of sorts, referencing not losing one’s self in memories, or slipping back into old habits by reminiscing upon them for too long. Tying into their long story, a line of “wish I never did Saturday” becomes alarming. This perhaps references their last album, which was explained to be a distraction planned by DEMA, which to many listeners upon arrival, sounded quite different to the band’s usual style, and only featured a few songs that gained accolades. It’s an interesting, retrospective take on one’s own career.

Almost begging for signal, ‘Midwest Indigo’ trances with its shiny opening frequencies. While still searching for the solid foundation, an interrupted Joseph enters with a distant warmth, that only echoes when clarity soon follows suit. Backed by a short and sharp drum beat, the song holds a steady pace, emulating a motion that both the listener and band can follow together, short breaths and moments of time. One thing that goes unmissable within this album is the prolonged car motif that situates itself not merely within this body of work, but links itself all the way back to tracks like ‘Taxi Cab’. The tracks use the vessel as a symbol of transition and journey, both literally and figuratively in reference to Joseph’s strong connotations of faith, as well as a buffer for often unspeakable topics. This, of course, is an element loudly proclaimed within this track. Divulging into spiraling thoughts and the lurking hand of dangerous thoughts that are often icy and jarring, ‘Midwest Indigo’ does what the band does best; plowing down stigmatic conversations by approaching them with both vulnerability and hindsight that becomes gentle through a poppy approach. With isolated callbacks and fast paced drums, it’s hard not to get lost in the smaller elements before the bigger picture unveils itself.

‘Routines In The Night’ opens with a reverberating alarm-like sound, apt for its title. The track then introduces us to Joseph’s nonchalant vocals, almost dreary and incredibly unimposing. What is certain with this band, is that every element of the track (lyrics, production composition) become a prominent role in the larger narrative at play- like the vocals embodying the lyrics in such a pronounced and layered manner. There are subtleties to be picked up on within the track, whether it be a small nod to the halls within ‘The Run And Go’, or the white writing that is now heavily associated with the Clancy figure. Beyond this, the song offers an interesting dynamic, with verses shifting into a timid rap verse- one that is unsure and retreating. With themes of exploration, growth, and the beautiful purgatory of unsureness, ‘Routines In The Night’ is a structured but unique expression for this chapter of the album.

Guided by the shrieks of a vulture, ‘Vignette’ serves as an immediate and direct homage to its predecessor, Trench. Through this small sound, yet one that is recurring, themes of death, rebirth, decay and awakening circle this track- elements that are all further explored when the song opens up. As per its namesake, the track exudes an air of episodic behaviour, and glimpses into moments of spiralling that permanently alter the moments surrounding it; a bleak frame with no boundaries, that continues to seep and spread its way into the next scene of one’s life. The presentation of this track is one of the most unique, especially with Joseph’s high vocals within the choruses that are just unexpected enough to be jarring situationally, but still roll beautifully. Clancy also sees the band experimenting instrumentally, using heavier electronic influences within the tracks, a feature which is clear between the post-chorus. Changing from moments of isolation to the culminating finale of a layered and crowded admission of “it’s not me, it’s for a friend”, there lies a feeling of support, a lack of abandonment, and the end of a journey that strays from the usual melancholia and isolation. Echoing words of “denial”, a prominent theme in the band’s 2015 song ‘Polarize’, shifting plains of accountability thrive throughout the song.

Taking inspiration from the largest artist in the pop scene as of right now, the Ohio duo has followed suit with the naming of their next song and last single before release in the form of ‘The Craving (Jenna’s Version)’. In a homage to what perhaps propelled them into light, Joseph once again picks up the ukelele, in a soft and stripped proclamation of love, justification, and soul ties. Despite the unknowns of love and the uncertainty of communication being enough, the track attempts to not ignore these features, but presents itself as an ode to the imperfections of such a strong emotion, and that even in the existence of tragedy and self-doubt, love prevails. As the song draws to a close and Joseph’s rasp grows, the urgency of his pleas and whisperings becomes more apparent. On multiple occasions, this album seems to instrumentally revert itself in order to make this direct contact shine through, but can at times lose itself within the simplicity upon a casual listen.

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An introspective and more comical representation of the industry, which in some ways, returns to themes Scaled and Icy, ‘Lavish’ brings a bit of funk and flair to this conversationally ambiguous and at times, upsetting, album content. With a hearty bassline that permeates through all elements, surrounded by an almost inquisitive tone of sorts, there is an undeniable groove. Introducing Joseph’s signature rap verse, ‘Lavish’ presents a bit of a break from the necessary weight of its counterparts, and allows listeners to relish in a bit of the band’s cheeky side.

With a mixture of synths and guitar, ‘Navigating’ adopts a bit of a new wave feel, aligning itself with other modern examples such as Molchat Doma. Vocally layered and exciting instrumentally, this track has quickly become one of my favourites. It too, gives Dun a bigger platform, with rolling drums, and swift hits signalling the chorus upon each occasion. As the song progresses, more elements subtly make their way into the background, before an extravagant build up of fast drums meets the end. Auditorily, this track represents the inescapability and isolation of one’s own detrimental thoughts, and the journey in navigating oneself out of them, even if the battle is destructive and lonely. The clever juxtaposition of the sounds of swiftness, versus the conversations of time is one that is clever, prominent and powerful. ‘Navigating’ holds strong within the album.

‘Snap Back’ is another one of those tracks that has minuscule but somewhat apparent references. The hot ride until the engine died? Surely that is a reference to ‘Heavy Dirty Soul’. However, there are also immediate connections to tracks like ‘Backslide’, housed within this album. It becomes a moment of intertwinement, latching the new with the old, and showcasing how they can work intrinsically to create a larger image at hand. Rolling along the track, the vocals are smooth yet rugged. Within the verses, they express a delicious dichotomy between a soulful harmony and his dreary spoken voice. At times, the track is incredibly ethereal, with an all encompassing soundscape lifting up Joseph’s vocals to that of an angelic status.

Following is ‘Oldies Station’. The track itself is quite beautiful and delicate, but it was here where I saw myself becoming a bit lost in the tracklist. While the lyrics hit deep and are heart-wrenching, at times, the past few tracks’ sombre approaches have blended into one another. Both in Vessel and Blurryface, and even Trench, we saw the duo instrumentally climax at points, experimenting with styles and sounds that are quirky and unique. And while these elements are scratching to prevail, they remain a little bit enclosed by the stylistic choices at times on this album.

‘At The Risk Of Feeling Dumb’, even still subdued, presents the duo at their heaviest in the record, which is a feat we know they can do incredibly well. While Joseph’s screams are something I really wished I saw more in this record, it also seems like an apt technical decision to propel towards these more sincere and subtle approaches to introspection rather than an excessively shoved-in-face idea. This track has one of the most earwormy choruses as well, with a vivid repetition that is sure to make this song one that is stuck in your head for quite some time. ‘At The Risk Of Feeling Dumb’ elucidates once again this kind of aside that creeps into the band’s music, a separation from the normal flow of conversation to create these overtly personal moments.

Whirring synths partnered with beautiful guitar chords ignite the six-and-a-half-minute feat that closes the album. ‘Paladin Street’ feels like a voyage, a grand adventure in which its soft plucking and gentle strums usher you forward on a glorious but daunting journey. It’s somewhat medieval feeling, perhaps a link to the Dungeons and Dragons nod within the title. Even within the atmospheric moments, this song feels like something so much larger than itself; a feeling that something is quietly building beyond the walls of its confines. As the song closes, we see it do so early along the play bar, with bird sounds chirping at the four-minute mark. After almost silence, Joseph interrupts with a declaration of sorts. Backboned only by his guitar again, words of submission and loss fly- with references to Nico and the Bandito’s. His defeat, betrayal, and capture is marked as a heavy door swings mid-word- and a familiar, eerie voice stakes his claim.

So few. So Proud. So Emotional.

Declaring Joseph as the protagonist of Clancy in the very last line of this album raises the stakes immensely. As a long-time listener, this utterance of FPE left me floored, and so too, the final words become a haunting lack of closure. Although questions have been answered, it seems there is much to discover from here- marking a journey not yet finished. After moments of thoughtful silence and relaxed songs, this final track gets the heart rate back up, and invites a relisten to pick up on all you may have missed. Once again, the band’s storytelling demands the spotlight.

Clancy sees Twenty One Pilots more comfortable in their own skin, creating an album in which the creative decisions have fallen back into their hands. The essence of storytelling permeates through this album, as Clancy becomes a novella of feeling, an ode to growth, and an expression of haunting pasts flourishing into something new – although it takes much courage and strength. At times, the duo’s unwavering experimentation is missed in lieu of lyrical and thematic clarity, drifting into moments of repetition or familiarity.

Personally, the album finds its strength within the first half of the album, which is a near-perfect celebration of what we love about the band. What never wavers, however, is the mass sense of feeling this album births. There is a depth that permeates for its whole duration- with moments of grief, reflection, and intimidation lingering among the tracklist. With a finale almost as exciting as its beginning, Clancy is an album I see myself going back to in order to sleuth, and inevitably, grow to love even more.  

Rating: 8/10
Clancy is out now. Get it here
Review by Georgia Haskins @ghaskins2002