April 4, 2022
Written By Dani Riddle

Tree River’s Time Being is a strong contender for rock AOTY

PHOTO BY BENJAMIN LIEBER

“Time is a silent killer. It’s a crime when your life’s just filler” Tree River’s new album starts with a punch to the gut. With lyrically powerful observations woven between rich percussion and riffs, Time Being is exceptionally poignant, smart and sincere. 
The Brooklyn-based band has been growing a dedicated following since the release of their freshman album, Inward, in 2014. They aptly describe themselves as “emo fanfiction”, but their music also showcases an influence from pop punk and mid-aughts rock, while never losing its emotional depth and sensitivity. On their own, these genres tend to fall victim to cliché archetypes, but Tree River manages to bring out the best of each with sonic references that feel almost as clever as the album’s lyricism. The result is an album that feels somehow both nostalgic and innovative, familiar and fresh. The content takes on challenging, existential topics, conveyed with a depth that emo music can often lack in favor of relatable angst. Tree River never shies away from that angst, but the angst is liberating, not cloying or overbearing. 

This is due in large part to the sense of zeal and vibrancy that permeates the album. The melodies are incredibly catchy, intense and visceral. It’s music you can scream in your car to, music that seems like it was written to be performed and experienced live. Each track displays a remarkable care and attention to detail, from musical composition to production. The songs feel tightly knit together, which gives the listener a cohesive experience without becoming repetitive at any point. There are some signature musical motifs: trilling riffs that ripple through the instrumentals, expressive vocals, and some of the most well constructed and sonically satisfying hooks in recent emo. 

The album deftly balances its darker themes with a (sometimes painfully) aware sense of humor. “With a tongue in a cheek, I’m joking/Writing songs and talking shit,” vocalist Trevor Friedman sings in the first verse of “Laughing With.” The track is self deprecating, questioning what or who the joke is. “I’m wasting all my oxygen on getting you to grin,” the lyrics observe their own existence, possibly referencing the experience of existing as an artist in an age where performance and entertainment take all. In Same Blood, a song about grief and healing, Friedman sings: “(I’m) trying my best to break out from hiding/Improve at food and outsiding/And learn to be alone.” It’s in lyrics like these that the humorous moment makes the narrative more heartbreaking in contrast. Again, in Crossroading, there’s a line that attempts to make light of its own experience by presenting itself as something absurd. “Crash and burn or turn the key/The door’s my enemy.” It’s a joke, but at the same time it’s not, and that makes it so much worse.

The album is littered with tiny, brutal moments, buried in its larger stories.“I’m betting a life on a future I don’t deserve,” in Little Ripper, “Shouting my songs to swallow all the silences,” in Journey Proud, “It’s harder to demand than give into your surroundings,” in Homesick, and “I want to know I’m enough when I’m out of your sight,” in Catalyst. Half the time the impact doesn’t even register until after the third or fourth listen. This album doesn’t wear its most emotionally devastating moments on its (beautifully designed, btw) cover- you have to reach into it and pull out its beating heart.

Catch Tree River on tour!: