Though Friendship aren’t a household name yet, the members of the band have played a crucial role in the recent countrification of indie rock: both Michael Cormier O’Leary and Jon Samuels run Dear Life Records, the label that helped launch MJ Lenderman and is currently home to heavy hitters like Florry and Fust. Much of their previous output fits in neatly with that milieu, but their fourth and latest album is something of a departure. Caveman Wakes Up is a more challenging listen, its ragged and shambolic eleven tracks largely operating as extended meditations on life. From reminiscing about lost loves to talking about menial jobs, Friendship position themselves as a spiritual successor to the poignant everyman poetry of David Berman.
I want to start with the lyrics because first and foremost, Caveman Wakes Up is about them. The distinctive baritone of vocalist Dan Wriggins (who also wrote all the songs on the album) is front and center on every track, singing about life’s big questions and its minutiae. On “Betty Ford”, a chance encounter with a movie about the former first lady’s struggles strikes a chord; he quips “I’ve been in pain / I’ve been miles away / And I’ve done everything I could think of to cover it up.” “Tree Of Heaven” could describe the view from any stoop on a city block: a dad reprimands his kids for not looking before crossing the street, someone double parks down the block. But by the time Wriggins croons “I have loved this town/ Since the day I got here“, you feel it in the way he’s lovingly rendered it in front of you. He finds the depth in the mundane, showing how even the smallest things can lead to moments of profundity.
The rest of the band find ways to accentuate Wriggins’ words without overpowering them. The chorus of “Resident Evil”, one of the album’s lead singles, has been rattling around in my head for weeks; a howl of frustration at a bad roommate (as they put it it, “that shithead in my living room”), its rippling guitar line renders it far more catchy than it has any right to be. Subtle flourishes consistently enhance without overpowering (see the plaintive violin line that lingers in the background of “Free Association” or a playful flute flourish that kicks off “Love Vape”). It all adds up to something special: the sound of a band at the top of their game, honing their craft into something sharper than ever before.