Propagandhi – At Peace

Are Propagandhi the greatest punk rock band of all time? Or, perhaps, the most important of the past 35 years? Are such questions even meaningful? Probably not. Besides, they tend to distract from what really matters. And what is that, according to my view? How we, personally and collectively, approach our totems, I suppose. The Canadian tech-thrash/punk titans, through their stance, their actions, their discography, and every aspect of their artistic (and therefore political) existence, have rightfully become one of the most crucial, sharpest, and most piercing voices in punk counterculture—and guitar-based music in general.

After eight years of discographic absence since the highly accomplished Victory Lap, Propagandhi return with At Peace. So what does this quartet have to say today that hasn’t already been said—musically and lyrically? And, to be more daring: why is it that the voice of a veteran tends to resonate louder with the mass audience than that of a younger band, even when the latter might be shaping the future, progressing, and fighting in areas that matter the most? How should we approach At Peace, both old followers and newcomers? Let’s attempt to sort through the chaos, always through a personal lens.

The golden mean, possibly, of Propagandhi’s unique case lies in their ability to slightly shift their torrential and demanding sound with each release while remaining lyrically incisive and offering a continual, holistic (left) libertarian counter-narrative. From that perspective, At Peace is a genuine Propagandhi album, the offspring of the inspired womb that has previously gifted us seven unparalleled records. Nearly four decades into their existence, the band recognizes the imperative of creative expression, delves further into mid-tempo structures, sharpens the melodic edges of their untamed guitars (in parallel with the mid-era maturity of their heroes Voïvod), and leans more on hard rock solos and cerebral basslines.

Can’t go wrong, the praising of tyrants
Follow along, the story’s in the works
You thought that you’d be watching from the side

The punk rock fire of Propagandhi, which has illuminated millions of minds worldwide, still burns bright. High-speed tempos haven’t been sacrificed at the altar of some ill-defined “maturity,” nor are they waved like a banner in some performative “loud comeback” designed merely to appease nostalgia in this era of fragmented attention spans. On the contrary, At Peace draws from that sonic legacy to channel the creators’ sociopolitical and existential concerns into songs. Over the past eight years, Propagandhi did not avert their gaze from global political realities or the volatile everyday life of North American societies.

It’s true that the enthusiasm and hopeful revolutionary spirit of youth no longer ring as loudly. Bitterness, failures, distances, and fatigue have left their marks on time—and on the music of At Peace. Yet Propagandhi have not grown up and sold out. They haven’t become advocates of cynical realpolitik. The maturity reflected in the album’s 48 minutes stems from the band’s decision to speak only when they truly have something to say. And in doing so, At Peace becomes, thus answering the questions posed at the beginning, one of the most substantial additions to the Canadians’ discography, especially given the surrounding cultural atmosphere.

Following the thread of their later period, Propagandhi build upon past elements to forge the identity of their new record. The approach of Potemkin City Limits, the slow-burning structure of the magnificent Failed States (one of the best albums of the last decade), and the melodicism of Supporting Caste all inform At Peace. The title track is classic Propagandhi at their finest. The ironic “Cat Guy” perfectly embodies the band’s more mid-tempo side. Tracks like “No Longer Young,” the stunning “Stargazing” (with its subtle synths), “Benito’s Earlier Work” (with its clever lyrics), and the moody “God of Avarice” reveal the band’s modern communicative code. Near the end, the record unveils the captivating “Day by Day,” one of the album’s peaks (a wake-up call to apathy), coming right after the class-rage-fueled “Vampires Are Real.”

Successive listens will, as expected, highlight every intricate orchestration detail and unlock the connection between lyrics and vocal delivery. In many ways, Propagandhi amplify the urgency of their lyrics in their multifaceted battle against resignation, the tolerance of fascist tendencies in an abandoned society, cynicism, the apathy of neoliberal individualism, and the despair seeded by fear of social change; all underpinned by a musical dramaturgy that reflects that struggle. Once again, they become a resounding, clear voice that does not shy away from honesty.

On our best days we reflect

Other times we disappear

I hope you can see yourself

Or pretty soon you’re gonna have no one else

Propagandhi haven’t hidden behind their “myth,” nor do they appear as sanctified prophets from the past, bitter about how things have turned out, standing beyond critique. At Peace finds them first in internal peace with their own psyche, and ultimately sounds exactly as it should: incorporating their unmistakable characteristics, their stubborn artistic vision, and their personality. So yes, Propagandhi have finally returned. In these eight years, the world has been destroyed and rebuilt many times. Lives have changed. Narratives have crumbled. Masks have fallen. And in contrast, some things remain constant. One of them is that every new Propagandhi album is among the year’s best—an essential listen and an excellent entry point into their world.

A Greek version of this review was published on Rocking.gr.