11:11

Pinegrove has yet to deliver a clunker, and 11:11 should be a welcome addition to any fan's regular rotation, in addition to offering a few gems for anyone partial to a tuneful, earnest protest song.

The New Jersey band deliver 11 tracks of their reliably twangy, heart-on-sleeve rock ’n’ roll, Hall’s focus has shifted from inward to outward, and his message has evolved from contemplative to comforting.

11:11 supports me unquestioningly: a companion to aimless woodland walks and petting strangers’ dogs; to Sunday morning coffee and excess pancake batter; to finding peace between the ceaseless mundane tragedy of the everyday and trying not to cry in public.

Though most songs clock in at under the four-minute mark, all are fully formed and find this long-lived iteration of the band locked in and at their most urgent.

Solid work is solid work, and Pinegrove have once again come through with a solid album on 11:11. It’s an LP with enough layers of interest to warrant more than just a single listen, but it retains enough of the band’s signature sound not to rock the boat too much.

The band’s open-armed fifth album looks to make amends, situating our human responsibilities within a natural world no less powerful and vulnerable than we are.

Their latest release '11:11', a collection of guitar-driven, intimate offerings, evokes the same tone as its namesake- that of wistful, layered musings, which while personal, feel a world away from reality.

Evan Stephens Hall gets the focus on his lyrical work as he takes on much about the contemporary world with social and political issues in mind, making for an album that's more compelling lyrically than it is musically.

11:11 will placate Pinegrove’s dedicated fanbase. It’s unclear whether it will harvest many new ‘pinenuts’, but it turns our faces to the flora, and in 2022 that’s far more rewarding than emo’s usual nebulous yearning.

Hall explores his anger and depression through mostly downbeat but frequently beautiful ballads.

It’s a shame there isn’t more urgency to the music, which finds some spark on Alaska but more often, though pretty, tends to plod.