In 2013, Fidlar frontman Zac Carper swore off drugs and alcohol for good, a decision that has resulted in an inevitable comedown. While sobriety undoubtedly saved the Los Angeles band from self-destruction, the shadows of their beer-guzzling, junked-up hedonism continue to loom. The punk rockers’ latest offering is proof of the lingering aftermath; sonically, Surviving The Dream nails the usual Fidlar formula, yet it twists and transforms their youthful skate and surf sensibilities into a cry for help. Despite the five-year break since 2019’s Almost Free, this record suggests that total freedom from addiction is still out of reach.
Opener Fix Me sets the tone of the record, Carper’s distinctive voice hollering as a clattering of skate carnage unfolds behind him – yet there’s something broken in his scratchy howls. It’s a confessional cloaked in a Thrasher hoodie, perfectly painting a picture of how to ‘survive the dream’ of the rockstar addict lifestyle when it has become a nightmare.
Scrappy punk rock sensibilities seem to provide a sense of solace for Fidlar. Throughout, the band speak in the same surf-tinged tongue as they always have, both sonically and literally; from the frazzled fuzz of Get Off My Wave, to Change’s talk of "paddling out" of bad situations, the veil of surf lingo feels safe, familiar. However, the usage also highlights how far Fidlar have come from their “Wake! Bake! Skate!” years, providing a direct point of reference to see how they have grown into hardened adults.
Dog House in particular parades as a classic Fidlar banger, fizzing with bouncy riffs and easy singalong lyrics – yet the reality of “surfin’ on a friend’s couch” isn’t merely a cheeky nod to the waves. The track is on the brink, a distorted breakdown of defeat. Following track I Don’t Want To Do This only serves as another kick to the teeth, a twitchy, manic episode soaring in on bombastic, sun-kissed guitars.
While each track is certainly authentic, this record isn’t too sonically unique or different from previous releases. Whether it be the woozy haze of Making Shit Up, the tongue-in-cheek chaos of Nudge, or the irresistible rumble of Down N Out, this is textbook Fidlar. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Fidlar have always penned tracks for the Sad Kids “who love to party”, and this release is loaded with pessimism that will get the crowds moving.
