Self-reformation has been a pivotal part of Crack Cloud’s identity ever since the Calgary-formed band’s 2015 inception. As much an art punk band as it is a rehabilitation centre, the group’s comradeship is shaped from its recovering addict membership policy. Likeminded punks encouraging one another’s expressiveness has resulted in two far-out experimental rock albums, but Crack Cloud’s third is built on the clarity that comes with true self-reformation.
Red Mile is a survivor’s album with clear messages and clear tunefulness. Full of melodies and other stamps that’ll grab a hold of you, the band’s JagJagwuar debut depicts a mightier Crack Cloud, summarised by Blue Kite; simple arena drum bashes, a prowling punk vocal take from Zack Choy (“you know my story, yeah I’m just a fucking addict / the market’s run its course, now back into the attic”), and mixes of real strings, replicating mellotrons, and synthesiser trademarks that work together to soar through the skies of utopia.
They’re still cracked, shaking and stammering with a punk humanist’s validity, but the songs of Red Mile are enthused by a way forward, displaying the level of solidarity the band was founded on in their approachableness. Snorting the Crack of Life, the opener encapsulates all with vocals as bolstered as they are likely to go into a Joe Strummer-esque ska routine, inviting singalong harmonies (“come all ye join us, let’s all have some fun / from microbe to the matrix, we’ll outlive our sun”), textured by African drum patterns, and guitar/piano interplay that reaches for those cracks.
Produced primarily in-house, the album’s ideals wolf into a decent Richard Hell impression on The Medium, snarling amid built-up production, golden oldy chords and multiple lyrical odes to the band’s beautiful history – “the rejects came along in the name of PUNK ROCK”. A similar Voidoid swagger penetrates the swinging Ballad of Billy, enough horns for a burlesque show, enough grooves to lead a tribute compilation to ‘70s rock and roll, super glam and even in a little bit Iceage.
More than happy to play around with their favourites (and YOUR favourites), the new wave synth-guitar locks of I Am (I Was) throw a huge Gary Numan party. Shared vocals punk themselves up as themes of existentialism take verses.
That’s what they do; Crack Cloud invent new vices that warm hearts rather than ruin them, programmed via their fluffiest outing to date on the baroque epic Lost on the Red Mile. At eight minutes, the closing track does remind of the album’s core issue; some of these songs do overstay their welcomes – I thought I was listening to a different song as the latter, more forgettable moments of Blue Kite initially floated on by – but that’s just a minor crack in the clouds.
Red Mile is otherwise extraordinary; a landmark in perseverance and song-crafting that maintains Crack Cloud’s punky, attitudinal shape. Much like its geographical namesake, Crack Cloud’s third album is a cause for togetherness.
