Send "Braid " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 We were the new Nathan Detroits. We assumed everything while Ariel danced in her room and took off her clothes. We were at their last show where Bob Nanna cried and maybe we did, too. Sure, this is a composite sketch, but we repped Braid to the fullest back when emo meant something. Of course, that "something" mostly meant humble Midwesterners with enough start-stop trickery and "auxiliary screaming guy" to crucially place themselves in the cred lineage of Fugazi even if the lyrics yelled "do you like me?" more than "you are not what you own." It's been hard since then: not just because Braid went dormant, but because emo's domination of early-2000s radio was a pyrrhic victory, its ensuing evolution leading to its becoming the single most vilified form in all of indie rock.But oh shit, Braid are back. Even if Closer to Closed is just a four-song EP, come on! Chris Broach in the building! Unfortunately, the brevity of Closer to Closed only makes it easier to remember that this is also pretty much the same band as Hey Mercedes, a competently forgettable Vagrant latecomer that made Everynight Fire Works, a record I haven't listened to in a decade mostly because I recall it sounding a hell of a lot like this. "This" mostly meaning market-tested emo-pop with the emotion and pop aspects sterilized by an unwillingness to commit to either. It sounded somewhat desperate back when there felt like a reason and a market to sell out for, but now it just sounds utterly clueless. This year, we've seen Taking Back Sunday, Saves The Day, and the Get Up Kids attempting to play catch up with themselves, but here Braid bafflingly jettison the goodwill of their past: the palm-muted verses and squeaky choruses, the one-sided conversations of the lyrics, the antiseptic production-- I'll say it could come from anyone because you probably don't remember who the Pinehurst Kids are. With not a single sharp edge provided by any riffs or even Broach (whose guitar doodles enough in the margins to let you know that he actually showed up), you haven't much choice but to sort of pitifully engage with Closer to Closed like a nervous friend before a huge date he's clearly going to fuck up....full text |
| Pastemagazine |
| Just as the hippest music fans wait in sweaty, block-sized lines to buy that prized limited edition 7" on Record Store Day, the most gracious bands in the music industry usually dole out the choicest goods on the most wonderful time of the record-buying year. But, unless I’m missing something, no band has yet to center their career around the holiday—that is, until the reformation of post-hardcore pioneers Braid, one of the most beloved (and, sadly, overlooked) trailblazing emo acts of the late ‘90s. Inspired by the collective spirit brought on by Record Store Day, the quartet decided, in late 2010, to record their first batch of new music since their 1998 landmark, Frame and Canvas, and release it on the special occasion. It didn’t quite go down like that—recording delays resulted in missing the cut by four months—but fans probably couldn’t care less since they’re getting a new handful of songs. Even better, the four-song Closer to Closed is a fantastic 16 minutes, even if its short running-time teases a future that might never come to realization—Braid have no plans to tour (besides a couple one-offs) or record further after this EP, which is kind of a shame based on the air-tight quality of the tunes present. Guitarist Chris Broach sings lead on opener “The Right Time,” so unless you’re listening with liner notes in hand, his softer, more melodic (and slightly goofy) vocal style might trick you into thinking this is a different band altogether. But in a way—it totally is. The Braid that crafted 1998’s Frame and Canvas never would have boosted its chorus with a tambourine or wordless (and, yes, adorable) backing vocals. The “post-hardcore” tag they’ve been so highly credited with pioneering has all but shriveled from their repertoire. Which isn’t to say they don’t still carry some of the stylistic markings—electric guitars still alternate between distorted chugs and harmonized space-pings; vocalist Bob Nanna, despite now being in his mid-30s, still carries a healthy amount of pre-graduation angst; lyrically, the songs are still focused on disillusionment and tear-streaked relationship drama. But it’s clear that in the 13 years since their emo swan-song, the band’s tastes have expanded more than a touch....full text |
| Avclub |
| Like a lot of indie bands in emo’s second wave, Illinois-based Braid worked hard with little reward, touring continually and releasing an impressive amount of music. Then after six years, it burned out and broke up. (That coincided with the rise of emo’s much more lucrative third wave, which incorporated a more streamlined, poppier sound.) Braid regrouped for a short tour in 2004 around the DVD release of Killing A Camera, a documentary about the band’s final shows, but it had no plans to release new material. That changed last year when Braid discussed recording a single for Record Store Day, which eventually turned into the new four-song EP Closer To Closed. Recorded by frequent collaborator J. Robbins (who also helmed the band’s 1998 swan song, Frame And Canvas), Closer To Closed let the members of Braid re-indulge in their songwriting chemistry without the pressures of being in a band. The subtitle might as well be This Is A Fun Hobby For Us When We Have Time, Just Don’t Expect A Tour. Singer-guitarist Bob Nanna wrote the three originals on the EP—the other is a cover of Jeff Hanson’s “You Are The Reason”—with singer-guitarist Chris Broach taking lead vocals on the opener, “The Right Time.” Broach’s voice sounds thin, but his and Nanna’s guitars easily slip into their knotty interplay, building to an excellent chorus. The same follows on “Do Over,” with Nanna taking over lead vocals. The EP comes and goes in 16 minutes, but it’s nice to see Braid picking up as if 10 years hadn’t passed. Here’s hoping more music follows....full text |
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