My love language can be defined as “creating and sending playlists back-and-forth.” And participating in that activity was exactly how I stumbled upon New Jersey’s Halogens. More specifically, it was “Kitchen Sink” from the lovably earnest quartet’s 2016 self-titled EP that first got me hooked. The half-screamed, half-sung lyrics stuck to me like glue, and the warped indie-adjacent sounds immediately reminded me of the Asheville, North Carolina-based outlet Pictures of Vernon. To sum up my feelings, once my ears heard, “I don’t want to be alone / But sometimes I have to,” I was hooked. That unequivocal, raw energy left me wanting more Halogens, ASAP.
Turns out, I was in luck. They were about a week out from dropping Happy Hour and putting on an EP release show. Hearing good things about Asbury Park from both Aaron West and The Menzingers (neither of whom could ever steer me wrong), I hopped on a train from Brooklyn and spent a night in the picturesque seaside town in anticipation of their new EP and live show.
Lo and behold, I was completely blown away by both their encapsulating set at Asbury Park Brewery and the six-song EP, which was released on February 22nd. With heavy-hitting vocals and harsh instrumentals, Happy Hour manages to entangle your emotions while accelerating your heart rate. My favorite song is easily “Pretty Enough,” a track where vocalist Zach Henry grapples with self-doubt and nearly-tangible anxieties. The song holds this unique power to be both cathartic and melancholy, with sing-song melodies backing reflective and doubtful vocals, “I wrote ‘I’ll always love you’ on a purple post-it note I once held close / I noticed today / the ink start to fade.” OOOF.
I appreciate Halogens for not being afraid to get personal. In just a short 16 minutes, the band touches on topics ranging from love, loss, mental health, and isolation. The hallmark of the ensemble’s talent, however, lies in their ability to make even the most sensitive topics feel fun, light, and engaging. You just can’t help but tap your feet and nod your head. Another favorite is “Buckle,” thanks to its perfectly daunting guitar intro. A song made to grieve the loss of a loved one, calming instrumentals force the listener to reminisce on a past unique to each individual. Lyrics filled with doubt ensue, “I’m sorry that I never wrote / I’m sorry that I never called / I’m sorry that I never made a goddamn attempt at all.” “O’Gorman” is another honorable mention, with its killer stop-you-in-your-tracks intro, and sing-song ohs and ahs. It’s impossible not to sing along to “No matter how bad it gets, you are my happiness.” My heart is on the f l o o r.
The one thing I ask of this incredibly skilled band is to play more songs in Brooklyn in the new year, as I am car-less, but eager for those sweet, sweet tunes. Happy Hour’s deeply personal, relatable, and validating lyrics allow the listener to proudly proclaim, “I’m with the band.” These guys know just how you feel, and to them, those feelings are worth celebrating. Devote some time listening to this EP, and I assure you, you’ll understand why this bouncy emo gem is truly something special.
Listen to Happy Hour on Spotify:
