What does one owe to the environment or situation in which they were raised? For some, the pride is unadulterated and unwavering. There is gratitude for the good times and respect for the character building challenging times. For others, the disdain is cynical and sharp. In this case, there is the constant thought moving beyond the cold reality at hand driven not by support but spite. In all reality, most wade through nuances in the middle ground which requires at least an acknowledgement, often more, of the systemic forces that are in play when it comes to one’s identity building. Texas quartet We Don’t Ride Llamas consider this all in their album American I(con) – a disillusioned account of the American dream that surrounds us no matter how we respond.
It is important to point out that the members of We Don’t Ride Llamas are siblings. The clear intimacy in the band’s playing sounds at once like four kids constantly jamming in the garage and four titans marching forward with matching energy. Their sync’d-up sound a testament not only to their talent as individuals but as a collective. “Nu(clear) Family” cruxes a crucial tenant of the American dream, the family unit. Specifically, how this seemingly pure image is corrupted by how those who don’t fit in with the traditional American family image are seen and treated. At a base level, this has a direct relation to one’s development of sense of self and relationship to their environment. As the song progresses the cries of “They’ll never heal” drawn out further until being undercut by a gurgling low scream as the track comes to an end.
Despite the heaviness of the subject matter WDRL don’t forget to groove. “Nu(clear) Family” begins with a bounding post hardcore riff that, along with the drums, stays in a reserved pitter patter with power chord accents until dispersing during the spaced out chorus. In “Media(core)” the harmonized picking adds melodic depth to the verse supporting vocalist Max Mitchell’s excellently restrained vocal runs. These two tracks tighten and loosen throughout their run time giving a tension and release feeling reminiscent of late 2000’s post hardcore like Lower Definition or Deftones. While these tracks excel in their melodic attention to detail, “(2-Inch) Grave” is a tantrum stomping rocker pounding against something that has got to give. The band sways like an uneasy sea underneath Max Mitchell’s commanding shouts – the track bursting with physicality. The middle of the of song heaves in syncopated unison like a team desperately battering whatever closed door is in front of them.
“Media(core)” and “(2-Inch) Grave” sit as opposing forces instrumentally but live together thematically. One represents the incessant greed encouraged by capitalism in an individualist society, the other represents the resulting loss of community. “(2-Inch) Grave” was inspired by the devastating impact of winter storm Uri on almost the entirety of Texas in Feb 2021. There is much strength in communal response to tragedy but also many reminders of the fragility of what we share as a part of the non-ruling class.
While “Media(core)” reads like maladaptive individualism, late album highlight “Ladybeetle” is another side of the coin. The track exudes confidence and vulnerability. Moreover, it represents choosing strength and resilience within yourself to set boundaries and trust that community will still be there for you – whether new or familiar. The track itself is genuinely stunning. The picked acoustic guitars sound haunting, the uneven-ness in the plucked strings add emphasis and power. Max and drummer Blake Mitchell are in total rhythmic agreement, adding a counterpart to emotive guitars. The vocals, at first a more percussive rhythm, float in and out of falsetto firmly stating “I choose to be strong, will you still hold on?”. The songs caps off with a climbing vocal in front a brief addition of distorted guitar. The message of the song is a powerful sentiment but the instrumentals make it feel truly beautiful.
The bookend of intro “National Anthem” and outro “It is (for good)” add a poetic lilt to the record. “National Anthem” is all tension, the palm muted guitars increasing the drama of the menacing poet. “It is (for good)” sounds like realization. The guitars are effected and given space, the vocals are knowing and powerful. These two pieces work well to sum up the record. American I(con) is all tone and messaging, it is all self and surrounding. It is expressive whether you are internalizing the words or the music. We Don’t Ride Llamas are a talented bunch and in a short time they make you hear them, feel them and believe them.
