Released on February 3, 2015
Vinyl includes MP3 download card
Every artist bio has its stock narrative: first comes the lengthy Juvenile Period (trial, error, rejection); then, dues having been paid, comes the electrifying Breakthrough (critical praise, general validation), which inaugurates the terminal Mature Period (respect of peers, reliable buying public, steadily diminishing relevance). Those who make it to that third stage, the story goes, might as well get comfortable, for they’ve achieved Success.
In 2012, Title Fight, a four-piece from Kingston, Pa., then known for a screamingly insistent brand of melodic hardcore, was right on schedule. Having formed in 2003 while its members (bassist/vocalist Ned Russin, guitarist/vocalist Jamie Rhoden, guitarist Shane Moran, and drummer Ben Russin) were in middle school, the band had begun in typically wobbly fashion with several pop-punk demos, split singles, and EPs. Then, in the spring of 2011, the Breakthrough had arrived in the form of Shed, their debut long player, a blistering, throat-shedding blend of Gorilla Biscuits, Turning Point, and Jawbreaker that won the heart of every hardcore and punk kid from the Warped Tour to Chaos in Tejas — and of every critic from Alternative Press to NME. When the follow-up LP, Floral Green, unexpectedly appeared a scant 16 months later, it bore some new, high-end influences (Hum, Slowdive, the Sundays) and engendered the reasonable assumption that Title Fight had landed comfortably in their Mature Period.
Hyperview, Title Fight’s third LP, due out on Anti- Records February 3rd 2015, sets those assumptions on their head. Taking the measure of Hyperview’s massive leap forward from previous releases is difficult to accomplish with words. The listener is periodically struck by faint echoes of the familiar (the Floral Greenishly tuneful and driving “Chlorine”) and of the canonical (the incantatory downstroke pummel of My Bloody Valentine’s Isn’t Anything period, as on “New Vision”; a Scratch Acid bassline jarringly yet winningly resolving itself into a Chapterhouse swirl, as on “Hypernight”), but this is an album that renders futile the exercise of conceiving bands as sums of influences. Hyperview can only be heard, and loved, as itself.