Making Sense of Last Week’s Jesse Lacey News

Dan Campbell of The Wonder Years wrote a line in the song “Hoodie Weather” that says, “Growing up means watching my heroes turn human in front of me”.

Never did that line ring truer for me than this past weekend when I heard about Jesse Lacey’s complete and utter abuse of his influence.

It’s one thing to make a mistake as large as soliciting sexual activity from a minor, but it’s another thing to make that mistake and not own up to it publicly. As a person who has completely changed the face of alternative music, Jesse should have taken the initiative to speak clearly about his past in his recent statement.

Keeping up appearances is no longer an excuse these days. Jesse Lacey changed people’s lives when he committed acts of both misconduct and, quite frankly, pedophilia. As a female who has experienced only the lowest forms of sexual harassment, I can only imagine what these women are going through as they re-hash emotions and pain that Lacey has caused.

Lacey’s statement on the matter only turns me away from him even more. He focused only on his part of the story, seemingly vying for pity from readers. He made little mention of anything that could be taken as concrete evidence and convict him further.

So, where do we go from here? As both fans and musicians, I think the biggest thing we can do is give complete and utter support to the victims of these emotional and physical attacks. As difficult as it can be to let go of artists whose music has helped us through the darkest times in our lives, we need to be cognizant of how those same artists have been the cause of dark times in others’ lives.

Just yesterday, the band Knuckle Puck had the band With Confidence removed from their upcoming tour. The guitarist for With Confidence, Luke Rockets, has been accused of being sexually involved with a minor and has been released from the band. Later in the day, Kyle Pavone of We Came as Romans was accused of physically assaulting a woman at a music festival.

This is just the beginning. As we begin to realize the frequency and severity of these types of happenings in the entertainment world and beyond, it’s time to stand up for the victims and demand change.

Unfortunately, single voices are rarely a catalyst for change. It’s time we unite our voices against this type of behavior. I charge those in the scene who have large, influential voices to stand up to these people who seem to think that, because their names are in the largest font on a tour poster, they are exempt from taking responsibility for the mistakes they make and the lives they affect.

People may make mistakes. But for Jesse Lacey and other band members in his same situation, it’s time to face the music. It’s time to take responsibility and be proactive in taking care of the problem. It’s time for this lack of self-control to end and simple human decency to take precedent in our music scene.

by Nadia Paiva

kiel_hauckNadia Paiva has been a music enthusiast since she can remember. Going to shows is her main pastime. The other is being upset when she can’t go to shows. This is her first official venture into writing about music. You can follow her on Twitter.

Review: Brand New – Science Fiction

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed their first weekend with Science Fiction. After eight long years, Brand New did weird things last week and ended up releasing a new album in a very typical Brand New sorta way. The resulting product is a very, very good album, maybe the best of the band’s career, and certainly a front-runner for this year’s best rock album. The end.

You can buy Science Fiction on iTunes.

Okay, it’s obviously not that simple, but seriously, what do you say? We’ve come to expect prolonged periods of silence coupled with flashes of ambiguous teasing from this band, but something about the events of last week felt truly exciting. With essentially no media coverage, no press push, and no rollout of any kind, Brand New stirred things into a frenzy and dominated the week in music discussion. The fact that Science Fiction is so damn good makes the whole thing that much more impressive.

You’ve likely already made up your mind about the album, ranked it somewhere above Daisy, and have begun the years-long process of unpacking Jesse Lacey’s lyrics. But since you’re here, let’s hit a few talking points.

First, what a relief that Brand New didn’t totally pull at the thread of 2015 singles “Mene” or “I Am a Nightmare”. In keeping with their track record, Science Fiction is very much another exploration for the band that carries a ghost of familiarity while becoming a completely new animal. At times, it sounds like something that would have been one of the most progressive rock albums of the early 90s.

To listen to the guitars on “137” or “No Control” is to hear a band that must have been inspired by In Utero-era Nirvana. Even so, tracks like “Can’t Get it Out” and “Out of Mana” wouldn’t have sounded completely out of place on The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me. All this to say, there’s a little something for everyone, and while many of the tracks don’t seem like they should make sense in album form, the band does an impeccable job of tying things together into a cohesive, fluid story.

With such a shifting bedrock beneath him, it’s impressive to once again watch Lacey hold his own. At times, Science Fiction plays out like a dark worship album, voiced by a man plagued by depression and demons. The album is crafted to play out like a recorded therapy session, but to limit it as just that would be an injustice. Herein, Lacey tackles big concepts like the threat of nuclear war and the bigotry of right-wing Christianity. In terms of scope, Science Fiction may very well have been Lacey’s biggest challenge and his grandest success.

I keep going back to “Could Never Be Heaven”, a sonically delicate song that would seem to offer a reprieve from the album’s harsh guitars. Instead, it’s a weighty track, with Lacey searching for a response from an unknown party. “Do you know the words that make the hidden door open? / Can you speak my secret name and fix me?” he asks at the song’s outset. By the song’s end, he seems to offer an answer to himself, finding comfort in his family. It’s the kind of uncertain, indefinite complexity that makes an album worth coming back to.

When Science Fiction is at its best, it’s asking hard questions and wrestling with hard truths about depression, hopelessness and insecurities. In standard fashion, Lacey avoids offering answers. “It’s never going to stop”, he sings on the album’s closing track, “Batter Up”. If this is truly the final song we ever hear from Brand New, what a punishing blow. I’m not sure whether it’s beautiful or tragic that such an ending feels hauntingly fitting.

In the coming weeks and months, we’ll all dig deeper into this record and come away with a better feel for what the band has given us over the course of 16 years and five commendable albums. It’s easy to make a reflex statement about Science Fiction being their best in the midst of the album’s chaotic release. One thing’s for sure, though – Brand New flexed their muscles on this one. It’s an intricate, complex, layered rock album made by professional musicians that know how to play their instruments. There really haven’t been many rock albums in recent years that can touch it from a technical standpoint.

Maybe that’s why it took eight years. Maybe that’s why there was no big rollout or celebration leading up to its release. Maybe Brand New simply wanted to drop this in our hands, unexpectedly, and walk away, truly letting the music speak for itself.

That would seem to be the message from Lacey, who on “In the Water” reflects on the band’s career and characteristically needles himself about his own drive, desire and ability to craft the songs that all of us pine for. “Can’t fake it enough / I don’t want it enough / So everyone’ll wait”, he sings. The wait was worth it.


by Kiel Hauck

kiel_hauckKiel Hauck is the editor in chief at It’s All Dead. Over the past decade, he has been a contributor for multiple online and print publications and was most recently an editor at PopMatters. Kiel currently resides in Indianapolis, IN with his wife and their imaginary pet, Hand Dog. You can follow him on Twitter.

Reflecting On: Brand New – The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me


I wasn’t into Brand New before it was cool. But I did love the Long Island emo rockers before The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me landed on November 20, 2006. In fact, I was waiting for it. By that time, I knew what to expect—straightforward mid-aughts rock with pop punk undertones and intense, passionate vocals. That, however, is not what the band brought to the table with its third album.

The first track, “Sowing Season (Yeah),” begins quietly—Jesse Lacey’s vocals just a whisper, the solitary guitar a mere hum—before exploding into a mourning waltz. “Time to get the seeds into the cold ground,” the lyrics say. “Takes a while to grow anything before it’s coming to an end, yeah.” Lacey, who was raised in a religious family and attended Christian school, is no doubt referring to the parable of the sower. The sower spreads seeds of faith across his land, but only those that land in good conditions, free of rocks and weeds and tough soil, are able to sprout. The rest wither and die.

With a title like The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me, it’s pretty obvious that faith will be important, but it’s not everything. The album signaled a departure in sound and subject for the band. While the band’s first two albums, Your Favorite Weapon (2001) and Deja Entendu (2003), as well as the 2009 followup, Daisy, scream of the era in which they were made, this one ignored many emo hallmarks and as a result retains a timeless individuality.

My first taste of Brand New arrived on a black-nail-polish-decorated mix CD from a girl whose heart I’d eventually break. This was freshman year of high school, and “Jude Law and a Summer Abroad,” playing over and over on my anti-skip disc player, made so much sense.

Just months later, the band released Deja Entendu. While it was catchy, I didn’t notice anything too extreme until a trip to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. A friend’s parents drove him, me and another guy from Indianapolis to Cleveland in their early ’90s GMC Vandura.

Back then, we wore black T-shirts with red letters and the metal-studded belts and bracelets of the variety that young rebels buy at shopping malls. Into the tops of our baseball caps, we screwed silver spikes—also bought at shopping malls—to be unique, to be true individuals.

“You’re different,” my parents would say about our clothes and our music, “just like everyone else who shops at Hot Topic.” They’d refuse to let me leave the house wearing black on black, since the Bible said to avoid even the appearance of evil. As youth worship leader, I had a reputation to keep. But in the Vandura on the way to Cleveland, I could wear whatever I wanted—listen to whatever I wanted.

The van had been retrofitted with a multi-disc changer, and my friend’s parents were usually very lax about letting us choose the tunes. However, somewhere near the Ohio border, in the middle of “The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows,” they asked—no, demanded—that we change it. No more Brand New for the rest of the trip.

“I can’t take the screaming,” said his dad, even though Brand New is pretty mild compared to Emery or From Autumn to Ashes or similar bands we listened to then.

“Maybe put on Blink-182 again,” his mom pleaded, “or Eminem.”

I couldn’t understand it. That song was one of the most radio-ready tracks of the year—of emo music, maybe ever. Though I couldn’t understand their reasons why, I could see, for the first time, that something truly subversive hid in Brand New’s music.

I associate Deja Entendu and Your Favorite Weapon with my own fake rebellion. The period, the music, is full of youthful angst and artifice, leading to a larger crisis. The third album broke free of the pattern. At that time, something broke inside me. We both rebelled for real.

Amid the mix of instrumental interludes and hard-hitting rock, including the eight-minute masterpiece “Limousine,” the song that sticks out on The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me is “Jesus Christ.” It starts out with that simple, repetitive guitar riff, which rings out in smooth, reverberating tones, unlike the distortion-heavy leads on other tracks.

While most of the song, a direct address to the son of God, could come across as snark, the Millennial insincerity that fuels Twitter, the ending provides a moment of clarity. “I know you think that I’m someone you can trust,” Lacey sings, “but I’m scared I’ll get scared / and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up.” This song, the first time I heard it, gutted me, especially the moment when the singer worriedly warns Christ: “I know you’re coming for the people like me / but we’ve all got wood and nails…” Honestly, it still guts me. Every time.

The album expresses doubt in an authentic way and ruminates on it, often shouting it out. (I wonder how my friend’s dad would’ve reacted to the vocal-chords-shredding refrain in “You Won’t Know.”) This rumination shows in the music as well. Most songs feature repetitious chord progressions. Some songs repeat two chords over and over. The tracks use varying drum patterns or guitar and bass riffs to delineate chorus from verse from bridge, creating a tapestry of sounds and weaving various threads through each piece.

Stripped to its most essential elements, the album is about loss. Loss of loved ones, loss of faith, loss of friendships, and loss of self—the losses compound into a black hole of longing. Something that once was there no longer is. Which is obvious especially in “Millstone.” “I used to be such a burning example / I used to be so original,” Lacey sings, later adding: “I used to pray like God was listening / I used to make my parents proud.” Even if you haven’t strayed, you know how it feels to disappoint, to remember how much potential you possessed when you were younger.

It’s a crisis that doesn’t fade with age. It’s a sentiment that remains real even after the break-up anthems of high school feel dated. Maybe that’s why The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me continues to be essential listening 10 years later.

by James Figy

james_figyJames Figy is a writer from Indianapolis and MFA candidate at Minnesota State University, Mankato. He has two cats, two rabbits, and an amateurish collection of Duke Ellington LPs. His creative work has appeared in Midwestern Gothic, Punchnel’s, and the anthology Bad Jobs & Bullshit.

Vinyl Spotlight: Brand New – Deja Entendu


Every so often, our resident vinyl lover, Kiel Hauck, takes the time to talk about a recent vinyl release and gives a breakdown about everything from packaging to sound quality. Here’s his latest installment.

Another Record Store Day has come and gone, which means that it’s time to enjoy our new records! This year was a particularly anticipated event for Brand New fans, who saw the band’s heralded 2003 album Déjà Entendu finally get a long-awaited repress. This pressing by Triple Crown Records was limited to 1,400 copies, which meant that if you wanted a copy, you needed to get there early.

I personally waited outside of Vinyl Rescue Project in Greenwood, Indiana, overnight with a few other vinyl lovers for my chance at snagging a copy. I’m happy to report that my dedication paid off and I am now a proud owner of one of my all time favorite albums. The real question is, was it worth the wait? The answer is an emphatic “yes!” Read on to find out why.

Packaging and Presentation

The artwork for Déjà Entendu is classic. The image of the levitating moon man against a fiery background has become legendary in its own right and this pressing brings new life to the artwork. The record itself is packaged inside a paper bag that simply reads “BRAND NEW DEJA ENTENDU” across the front. Once the bag is opened, the real fun begins.

The cover is die cut, with the moon man appearing on a green insert sheet with lyrics and liner notes behind the front cover. The album opens into a gatefold with gorgeous artwork inside, featuring the moon man in tall grass beneath a cloudy, moonlit sky. The quality of the casing itself is splendid and gives plenty of room for the bright red, orange and green colors to shine.

Also included in the packaging are some stickers, a Brand New patch and a beautiful lyric book with handwritten lyrics by lead singer Jesse Lacey. The book is high-quality card stock with special artwork and handwritten notes for each of the songs, including fret board drawings that explain how to play each of the tracks on a guitar. I am truly biased towards this record, but it very well may be my favorite packaging of any album I own. There is so much detail, it’s easy to lose track of time looking through it all.

Sound and Quality

As beautiful as the packaging is, what good would it be if the record sounded like crap? Fortunately, that’s not the case here. The album is pressed on two 12-inch 180-gram records that capture the full sound of one of the scene’s greatest albums. Part of what makes Déjà Entendu so legendary is its raw production value, and it comes through wonderfully on these discs. Lacey’s layered vocals sound as powerful as ever, complete with his cracking voice.

Similarly, the guitars sound great, especially on passages like the bridge of “Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades”. Déjà Entendu is a diverse album and this new pressing captures all of the highs and lows. “Guernica” sounds beautifully rough around the edges while “Play Crack the Sky” finds delicate moments that are elevated by the purity of Lacey’s acoustic guitar. This pressing allows the album to breathe and makes for an extremely enjoyable (and emotional) front to back listen.

It seemed like this album would never get the repress it deserved, but with this limited Record Store Day Release, Triple Crown Records came through in a big way. The unfortunate fallout from such a release is the number of flippers on eBay charging hundreds of dollars for the record. If you were unable to snag a copy of this on Record Store Day – don’t give in to the sellers. There are still some preorder options available for the standard release coming in May.

If you were able to get a copy – enjoy it. I know I am.

Deja vinyl

by Kiel Hauck

kiel_hauckKiel Hauck is the editor in chief at It’s All Dead. Over the past decade, he has been a contributor for multiple online and print publications and was most recently an editor at PopMatters. Kiel currently resides in Indianapolis, IN with his wife and their imaginary pet, Hand Dog. You can follow him on Twitter.

Brand New Streams New Song “Mene”


As hard as it is to believe, Brand New has finally released a new song after six long years. The band is streaming a new track titled “Mene” at their website. Artwork for the single can be seen below:


The new song is suspected to be from a forthcoming album due out sometime this year. You can download the new song by filling out a form on the band’s website.

What are your thoughts on the new track? Share in the replies!

Posted by Kiel Hauck