White Lung - Deep Fantasy | Album Review | By Volume

Understand that I am only as he made me: a faithful servant to all of the noise, all of the lights, all of the flashing in my head. Laura Stevenson - Wheel

White Lung

Deep Fantasy

Unfiltered, unhampered and flat-out great punk rock.

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Author: on August 22, 2014
Domino Records
June 17, 2014

For running just north of twenty-two minutes, Deep Fantasy is an immense record. This expertise with succinctness has been honed since 2006, and really, it’s not like White Lung’s other two gut-punches of records didn’t clock in at under twenty-five minutes themselves. Those albums, teetering on the border between gorgeous and uncontrollably raucous – an indecision that isn’t present at all throughout the entirety of Deep Fantasy – were excellent glimpses into a good band that might have just ascended to greatness. As soon as “Drown With The Monster” kicks off you’ve been strapped in, and this roller coaster of a record (scary, big-ass amusement park sized, rest assured) takes you swooping up into the stratosphere with little concern for your well-being. That’s exactly how an excellent punk record should treat its listeners: a few bashes to the face followed up by an ice pack and chilled sixer.

You are the lucky one and I’m the dying breed / It all comes undone when you’re in front of me”, lead singer Mish Way elegantly wails on the exceptional “Lucky One”, one of ten blistering songs that make up Deep Fantasy’s tracklist. It could be easy to pigeon-hole White Lung as a bit of a homogenous band – their songs all sound alike and such – but this would be a foolish criticism, as the band’s albums crash in like a bull through a glass window and exit through the same rupture as a casual breeze. And unlike their previous two albums, Deep Fantasy is White Lung at their best. No moment feels wasted, no power chord useless, no distortion wayward — and every word belted from the mouth of Mish Way is a force to be reckoned with. On the aforementioned “Lucky One”, when she screams “Sit! / Sit! / Sit! / Little Swine!”, one couldn’t be blamed for assuming she was demanding this of her own art, bending it to White Lung’s desires. The power and sheer force behind their music is deceptive for how surprisingly accessible as it is. While I wouldn’t say you’ll hear White Lung on pop radio any time soon, Deep Fantasy is a record steeped in 70s stadium grandiosity, with the intelligence to reign in the cheese in favor of a pure, almost violent rush.

Down it goes into that precious middle / Down it goes and / The world got little”, Way sings on “Down It Goes”, and while the song itself is an introspective take on boozing up as a means for escape, it’s also a blueprint of sorts on ingesting White Lung. Like a quality liquor, Deep Fantasy is best experienced all at once – a single shot of glory down your gullet to ignite a fire in the belly. This is pretty much how listening to White Lung feels, and Deep Fantasy is easily the band’s finest batch yet. Smooth, yet inherently biting — like the best Canadian whiskey — Deep Fantasy is this young punk band reaching yet another peak. We could argue about why the album isn’t the best record ever, or how and where the band could improve – but that’s wasted effort. They don’t seem very concerned with these musings and if that disregard mashed up with their undeniable talent and ambition can create something like Deep Fantasy, well, then I can’t wait for the next injection of White Lung’s particular form of adrenaline.

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