Closebye

The hammer is one of the most commonly used tools by humankind throughout history, and it’s taken on rich symbolism over thousands of years, showing up in mythology, national flags, political symbols and folk tales as a representation of both industriousness and impulsiveness. For the New York band Closebye, it represents the act of tearing down your old life and building a new one—but, as we all know, it’s a lot easier to knock things down than to build them up again. Self-improvement isn’t as easy as simply taking pilates or meditation: it requires hard work, self-motivation and a willingness to wade into difficult situations.
Hammer of My Own, Closebye’s second album, understands this intimately. The music reflects several cycles of creation and destruction: the band’s reformation after finding themselves on the brink of a breakup in 2021, the devastation of the live music industry during the pandemic and the joy of its rebuilding. According to singer-songwriter Jonah Paul Smith, the album’s lyrics are preoccupied with ”the struggle to come to grips with self-reliance, with constant shifts of blame, projection, codependency, ending with a new sobering independence, and the realization that only you can be your own savior.”
The music on Hammer of My Own reflects the conflicting impulses of its creation by pairing the band’s gauzy, textural indie rock with a powerful rhythmic chassis suggestive of the early-’90s pairing of rock and rave—bands like Primal Scream and the Stone Roses, who likewise wrote about burning out and screwing up over jubilant, sky-high beats. Some of Closebye’s newfound sonic oomph owes to the band’s illustrious team behind the boards. Multi-instrumentalist Ian Salazar, who previously worked with White Denim and Mamalarky, produced the record and helped craft its striking sound. James Krausse has mixed albums by Porches and Carly Rae Jepsen and here brings a sleekness to the songs on the record.
But what holds everything together is the band’s chemistry. Smith’s vocals are tender and soothing, with a world-weary and cynical edge that keeps them from dissolving into the soundscape. The band’s other “J.P. Smith,” Julian Paint Smith, keeps the listener on edge with dense walls of synth and guitar leads that vacillate between dreamy and electrifying. Bassist Margaux Bouchegnies and drummer Simon Clinton fuse the oomph of a great rock rhythm section with the relentlessness of early rave music, and everything contributes to a wall of sound that’s almost overwhelming in comparison to the band’s comparatively hushed debut Lucid News from 2022.
Even at just over half an hour, Hammer of My Own feels larger than life, and the best way to experience it is to sit back and let it wreck you.