Five songs into ‘Young New England’ and it’s hard to understand exactly what all of the fuss is about when it comes to Transit. Signed to the mighty Rise Records and with a seriously solid fan base, the Massachusetts outfit seem to be on the verge of making it big with their fourth full-length album, but unless I’m missing something it feels like a slight case of the emperor’s new clothes.
This album has everything that you’d expect and nothing that you’d be surprised by. This sort of thing sounds just like bands such as Valencia and Rocky Loves Emily; there’s nothing wrong with that, but if you buy this album expecting something amazingly imaginative then you’re on a hiding to nothing. The problem with this record though is that it isn’t even as exciting as albums by the bands previously mentioned, you listen to a song like ‘Hang It Up’ and it’s dreary and monotonous with dull guitar riffs and unimaginative vocals. That seems like the mantra for the entire record, how this band has even got themselves onto Rise Records is a mystery.
It isn’t even worth getting animated or annoyed about, the record just leaves you empty and numb, like a bad takeaway after a night out. To get a flavour of the boredom of this record, just give ‘Don’t Go, Don’t Stray’ a listen. It’s depressingly somnolent. The people who enjoy this album really aren’t being honest, it’s poor and it actually feels like this band hold their audience in contempt. Why should fans of pop-punk or whatever you want to class this turgid tripe as have to settle for this?
Not only will it make you fall asleep, but ‘Young New England’ will utterly baffle you as to what the album is about. It’s hard to get a grasp of anything on this record. Maybe I can’t hear the genius, or maybe I’ve heard tons of exceptional pop-punk and pop-rock records and this isn’t one of them. Maybe Transit will make a good album one day, but ‘Young New England’ isn’t it. They should do us all a favour and bury every copy they’ve made of this record in the ground and start over.
Written by Greg Spencer