On The Impossible Past

Tea pairing: Darjeeling with milk and honey

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On The Impossible Past may not technically be a true emo record, but there is undoubtedly a raw and personal element to it that, at the very least, is an homage to the emo genre. With songs detailing heartbreak, love, lost youth, loneliness, and suicide, it would be a sort of sin to not give this already stellar album more recognition.

As I mentioned before, there really must be something going on out in Pennsylvania as the state is home to countless punk and emo bands, and Scranton’s very own, The Menzingers, certainly have made a name for themselves since their formation in 2006.

The Scranton quartet saw a good deal of acclaim following the release of their first two albums, but it was 2012’s On The Impossible Past that put them on the punk rock map. Described by Thomas Nassiff of AbsolutePunk as “sweeping, driven, masterful” , Impossible is very much a punk-heartland rock album done in a grand, beautifully concise, and nostalgic manner that hits hard.

Not having grown up in the Rust Belt, I can only imagine what it felt like to have lived in an area that was once revered by most other largely industrial areas only to have it all disappear overseas while ripping apart families and livelihoods.

I’m not bringing this up as a sort of history lesson, but instead to highlight Impossible’s strong influences of heartland rock. The Menzingers poured themselves and their experiences into each track and as a result there is a deeply moving and emotional mix of punk, rock, and traces of emo.

Some of the album’s hardest hittings songs are “Good Things”, “Gates”, “The Obituaries” and “Sun Hotel”, where co-frontman Barnett graces the listener with some painfully honest imagery with “And I’m pretty sure this lonely corner is the loneliest corner in the whole world/Maybe it’s me or the bartender, this Budweiser, the other customers/When all eyes are glued to the 6 o’clock news for another fire or impending deer season/I will leave you alone, and you will leave me alone.”

Now, those lines have stuck with me for a while and I cannot help but picture Greg in the very bar he’s describing in the song everytime I hear the song or when I’m singing it myself as I so often do without even knowing. I also think that this is an important slice of their heartland styling that they have continued to incorporate in their later records.

I mpossible does a tremendous job of instilling a strong feeling of nostalgia through relatable stories of troubled youth, love and loss, depression, and loneliness. Even though I’m only 22, each time I hear “Gates” or “Ave House” or “Burn After Writing” or “Casey” I’m immediately transported back to the heartbroken summer I had when I was 16.

Hell, It wasn’t until just after I turned 17 that I finally got around to listening to The Menzingers, so what does that say about their songwriting?

I get it, I’m not old. But I feel old at times, especially now since I found out that I am older than the Bears’ new quarterback, but I digress. Impossible is able to conjure up personal feelings within me through excellent songwriting, wrenching vocals, and just enough of an emo tinge to have me dub it a slightly emo album.

I’m young, yes of course, and there is always a struggle between the youth and the vices we have at hand and how abundant they are, but to be honest I have never found myself at any substance's mercy.

I guess I’m lucky, but conscience, when it comes to a lot of things, can be a struggle so when Barnett sings “Remember the days when I had a conscience? Yeah, me neither” on "I Can't Seem To Tell", I cannot help but wonder who hasn’t struggled with discovering, listening to, or using that little voice in our heads. Great question there, Greg.