The Wonder Years: the poster band for that one friend you should probably check on. The widely-beloved Pennsylvania pop-punk outfit with 7 full-length records to their name are perhaps most known for waxing poetic about simultaneously loving and hating their hometown more than New Yorkers on vacation.
Throughout their career the band has continually tapped into the pulse of discontented adolescents and jaded adults with their blend of cathartic anthems about growing older and feeling like a failure. The Wonder Years are a tragic death away from becoming a folk legend in their relative circle, the givers of goosebumps, and the carriers of their respective torches. In truest form, revisiting these records made us depressed all over again while fighting the urge to move all our shit into our parent’s basement.
Lastly, if you don’t agree with this ranking just know you’re this generation’s Anthony Fantano (derogatory).
7. Get Stoked On It (2007)
Starting off with an honorable mention, the album that started it all now mainly lives on Microsoft Zunes and bootleg YouTube playlists–and for good reason. Between tacky synths, hilariously bad titles, and extremely-dated suburban white boy hip-hop lingo, this one is painful at best. Years after its release the band would make the mistake of committing to a re-master before realizing how bad of an idea it was. Commenting on the album’s re-release, Campbell said “If you like the record, enjoy the new mixes. If you hate the record, I’m on your side.”
Play it again: Not even this album’s creators recommend doing that
Skip it: Unless you’re a die-hard
6. Sister Cities (2018)
Considering the band started their careers singing about The Kool-Aid Man fighting Cap’n Crunch, this darker, more mature release is actually pretty decent. The problem is, it’s just that. Lyrically it feels less inspired than most, with certain hooks that already lacked depth repeating themselves a few too many times. Unfortunately this album’s lack of standout performances across 44 mins of strained yelling will leave you feeling as sad and empty as the dog on the album cover. Put simply, “Sister Cities” is an enjoyable enough Wonder Years record that is flanked by superior releases. If you love The Wonder Years, you like this record. If you aren’t really a fan, you can skip it.
Play it again: “Heaven’s Gate” (Sad & Sober)
Skip it: “When The Blue Finally Came”
5. The Upsides (2010)
Look, this one is rough around the edges, but it’s deeply important to the band’s history and helped carve out a place for their iconic sound in a burgeoning emo/pop-punk scene. There are still some rowdy tracks that will have you flailing about with angsty teenage spirit while cleaning your one-bedroom apartment, but there is also room for improvement and a definite realization that time has not been super kind to these songs. It’s a good time if you dig their early stuff, but it just doesn’t shine like the releases that immediately followed it.
Play it again: “This Party Sucks”
Skip it: “Hey Thanks”
4. No Closer to Heaven (2015)
The intro and opening track on this record really sets a powerful tone. One that will give you goosebumps, and also make you want to call your siblings and apologize for being a dickhead between uncontrollable sobs. This record showed the raw power of The Wonder Years in a new, more mature light and sent the band hurling into their next chapter as a sadder, more evolved version of themselves. Too bad the production on this one absolutely blows, because between catchy tunes and an amazing feature from Jason Aalon Butler of letlive., this record is an absolute ripper that makes few mistakes and almost all of them are the goddamn drum mix. Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?! Can we get a re-master on this one, Soupy?
Play it again: “I Don’t Like Who I Was Then”
Skip it: “Palm Reader”
3. The Hum Goes on Forever (2022)
Finally. A well-produced Wonder Years release that combines their newer sound with crippling levels of sadness and nostalgia. “The Hum Goes on Forever” is guaranteed to make any new parent cry at least twice, and that’s a compliment from this emotional masterpiece of post-pop-punk perfection. The band’s latest release is nearly their magnum opus, and certainly the pinnacle of their second chapter. Coming off of a similar project that didn’t quite stick the landing, there is just so much that this record gets right, and that about all you can ask for from a bunch of pop punk dudes in their late thirties still writing songs about being depressed.
Play it again: “Oldest Daughter”
Skip it: “Songs About Death”
2. Suburbia I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing (2011)
Continuing from the success of “The Upsides” this record saw the band hitting their stride, setting them apart from their peers and giving the kids a nasty string of hard-hitting punk songs about being broke, depressed, and balding while everyone around you gets married. A very strong collection of standout tracks and few relative duds, “Suburbia” plants itself firmly on the band’s upswing into legendary status as it delves into jaded perspectives on organized religion, drug use, and burying a friend. Yeah, it’s mostly sad, but if you’re a Wonder Years fan that’s basically what you sign up for every time you put on their music.
Play it again: “Came Out Swinging” (Yes, it’s because they name check Blacklisted)
Skip it: “Coffee Eyes”
1. The Greatest Generation (2013)
The Greatest Generation is the epitome of a pop punk band reaching relative maturity and finally dating women their own age, or at least close. The pimples of the past have faded as The Wonder Years present the best version of themselves in this relative glow-up that stands the test of time. This record is the farthest you can go while still being called pop-punk, and ushered in the band’s next chapter as the definitive face of the post-punk revival. The subtle harmonies are perfectly placed over the sad poetic passages of Campbell’s writing, and the instrumentation is infinitely smoother as you get taken on a journey through, you guessed it, a series of sad songs about growing older and realizing everything sucks. That said, this is the perfect record for that exact mood which is why we love it.
Play it again: “Passing Through a Screen Door”
Skip it: “Madelyn” and go directly to Dan Campell’s solo project, Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties. Do not pass GO, and do not collect child support.
1966: 10 Year Old Piano Prodigy Kevin “GG” Allin Suffers Head Injury After Falling From Jungle Gym
1968: John Fogerty Writes ‘Fortunate Son’
1971: Jim Morrison Devises Foolproof Plan to Fake Own Death
1977: Delighted Johnny Ramone Finds Perfect Bowl to Achieve Dream Haircut
1980: Drug Dealer Mistakenly Delivers Large Amount of Heroin to Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers Instead of Johnny Thunders’ Heartbreakers
1985: The Cramps Announce Necessity to Tour Normal Rock Clubs as Reagan Administration Shutters More State Psychiatric Hospitals
1988: Swans’ Michael Gira Inadvertently Sets World Record For Longest Continuous Scowl
1989: Kid Rock Completes Reverse-Elocution Lessons in Order To Pass as a Redneck
1992: Supreme Court Strikes Down Law Which Restricted Women in Alt Rock Bands to Only Playing Bass
1996: Lighting Bolt Announce They Will Henceforth Only Perform on Floor
I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I… “And he lived that way forever, separate from the other tigers. He could not know another tiger.” And I’m crying, great. Alright, well… “The Tigers Have Spoken” is an interesting addition to the Neko Case canon because unlike most live albums, it’s not just her playing the hits, but rather it’s mostly songs that don’t appear on studio albums, such as “If You Knew” and “Favorite” as well as covers of traditional songs like “Wayfairing Stranger” and “This Little Light” and songs by artists like Buffy Ste. Marie and Loretta Lynn. There is also a humorous (and educational) hidden track at the end, in which Case suggests that a great way to help the diminishing tiger population would be to feed them our brattiest children. Sure beats Meow Mix in my book.
Released in 1997, “The Virginian” is a collection of straight-up country songs and covers (often of a honky and/or tonk variety) and co-written originals. At times, “The Virginian” feels like a drunken night out, with “Thanks A Lot,” “Honky Tonk Hiccups” and “Timber” all being incredibly danceable. Too danceable, really. Other songs like “Somebody Led Me Away” are mellow torch ballads that highlight the artist’s incredible voice. Still, it’s the title track that seems the most Case-like. “The Virginian” tells the tale of a girl who “would not love God as a test,” and who was “free to do what she wanted with clouds of her own.” Ultimately, this album is very much worth checking out, if you can put aside your pride and your ego and admit that there’s even a small part of your dead little soul that still wants to boot-scoot and give a little yee-haw! And let’s face it. We all do. We all want to yee-haw.
(Affecting a Trump voice) Wow… what a title. We love a catchy title, don’t we folks? We… that title, I mean, it just… just rolls off the tongue. It’s an absolutely tremendous title. Alright, enough of that. Case’s songs have always featured surreal lyrics and unusual structures, but this album takes the experimentation one step further. The only drawback is, it doesn’t always do this in a very interesting way. Many of the ideas feel more chrysalized on “Hell-On,” but there’s a lot to love here from the “Hamlet” inspired opener “Wild Creatures” to the punk-rocking gender-smashing “Man” to the raw, a capella “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu.” Given the chance, we bigly recommend listening to the deluxe version of this album, which features covers of Robyn Hitchcock’s “Madonna of the Wasps” and a bluegrass cover of Case’s own “Magpie to the Morning.”
The second (and final) album made with Her Boyfriends, released three years after “The Virginian,” “Furnace Room Lullaby” feels like such a tremendous leap in ambition in just a small stretch of time. But still, it seems like a completely natural progression, much like how a DMV worker will inevitably come to moonlight as a dominatrix. It’s an astonishing work that becomes more and more enjoyable with repeat listens. It also happens to be a perfect album for people who are really into Fall. You know the types. The kind who fantasize about driving down a country road on a clear, crisp Fall day to go apple picking, with a pumpkin spice coffee in hand. Yeah. This is an album for them. And I mean that in the absolute best possible way.
“Hell-On” takes the macabre, Southern gothic innovations we’ve seen throughout her career and adds in heavy doses of experimentation found on “Worse Things Get” The opening title track, a story of God and the destruction of planet Earth, feels like it belongs in Aronofsky’s “mother!” while “Last Lion of Albion” sounds like the kind of indie rock you’d wanna hear at your favorite barcade. The almost cartoonishly bleak “My Uncle’s Navy,” tells the tale of a monstrously abusive uncle who enjoys torturing small animals. (It’s sad, most people grow out of that by adulthood.) On “Curse of the I-5 Corridor,” Case laments that “I left home and faked my ID, I fucked every man I wanted to be,” while on “Halls of Sarah,” she sings of poets who “love womankind like lions love Christians.” And “Sleep All Summer” adds a nice touch of piano-driven mellow sweetness to an otherwise hellish record.
The top three on this list could all stand at number one, but we ultimately had to rank them and this is how the chips fell. As always, dissent is welcomed, but bear in mind that we here at The Hard Times have never once been wrong about anything ever. This record features some of Case’s best song-writing, on tracks like the dream-inspired “This Tornado Loves You,” the uplifting “Magpie to the Morning” and the soothing “Vengeance is Sleeping,” while “Polar Nettles,” “Prison Girls” and “Red Tide” add an almost horrific element to the mix. Ultimately though, it’s the album’s closing track, the 31-minute long “Marais La Nuit” (night swamp) that issues the biggest challenge, but it’s also a deeply meditative experience and one that we insist you listen through at least once. Do it. Listen to the swamp noises. Embrace the swamp.
“Blacklisted,” much like overhearing your Mom on the phone with your grandparents, is an album that becomes more distressing the further you listen. “Blacklisted” first paired Case with her signature instrument, the tenor guitar, a smaller, four-string guitar known for its clear, bright tone and ability to play without making ones fingies hurt. Partially inspired by Case’s fraught childhood in Washington, the specter of Green River Killer, Gary Ridgway haunts this album like a malevolent phantom. The song “Deep Red Bells” is wholly about him, while his presence is felt scattered throughout in songs like “Ghost Wiring,” where Case sings: “The river is watching you at the drive-in tonight.”. Meanwhile, songs like “Tightly” and “Look For Me (I’ll Be Around)” set the perfect atmosphere for an evening walk through crime alley and “Stinging Velvet” and “I Wish I Was the Moon” are perfect for a night ride home.
This album is perfect both for sitting at a coffee shop (drinking a $11.00 charcoal chai latte) or for walking in the woods in the middle of Winter. In Uggs or Doc Martens of course. “Fox Confessor Brings The Flood” is Case’s most folk-oriented album, and in many ways the bleakest. “Star Witness” tells the tale of a depressed widow seeking stimulation from dangerous men and “Maybe Sparrow” tells an almost hopelessly bleak story of grim warnings unheeded. It’s not at all surprising to learn that this entire album was inspired by fairy tales. And not the Disney kind. More the “my stepmom was a cannibal and that’s why I’m so messed up” kind. Ultimately, though, as with most of Case’s discography, she is always able to rescue us from her darkness: She gets spiritual with her cover of “John Saw That Number” and continues with “At Last” serving as a late-in-the-album shout back into the void.
Pink Floyd just wasn’t the same without Syd, man. At least that’s what Dan told us before playing one of the most disorienting albums we’ve ever heard in our entire lives. It’s said that Barrett left Pink Floyd following a psychedelic-fueled mental breakdown, but our guy suspects it had more to do with being a stifled artist. We were really hoping this would be a segue into Dan telling us he had acid again, but unfortunately his hook-up got arrested again.
Apparently, this album needs to be played three consecutive times in a row to form a cohesive song, because everyone knows that cohesive songs are over two hours long. At least that’s what Dan said around the middle of the second playthrough while not even thinking about weighing out the Purple Dream we asked for. If you ask us, the record only gets more unintelligible with each listen, and this was supposedly the album where they tried to write real music.
Ugh. Like most weed guys, Dan is fucking obsessed with Captain Beefheart. Personally, we don’t understand. We made the mistake of saying we’re not really fans, so we had to sit through a forty-minute lecture about how we just ‘don’t get it.’ Reportedly, one of the songs features each member of the band all playing a different song simultaneously or something. We’re starting to suspect that’s why it sounds bad. He got so worked up about our supposed ‘lack of artistic appreciation’ that he’ll probably never tell us when he gets shrooms in again.
At least this album was more modern and slightly enjoyable. Still, it’s hard to get into John Dwyer’s hellish soundscapes on a set of empty lungs, and the edibles we took just to endure the experience of coming to this guy’s house hadn’t kicked in by this point in the night. Apparently, this record has been long out of print and Dan owns an original pressing. He obtained it for only 150 bucks from a dude on Discogs. Glad to know our money is being well spent, we guess.
To be completely fair, he didn’t make us listen to the entire album, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make us sit in silence while he recited all fifteen verses of ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’ from memory. We probably would have been impressed if we weren’t so utterly annoyed. One of us coughed during the third refrain, so he had to start over from the top, adding another seven minutes to our ill-fated green run.
Most would expect to have ‘Dopesmoker’ thrust upon their ears during a transaction that should have taken ten fucking minutes of their day, but most haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Dan. He may be a lot of things but he’s no pedestrian listener of stoner-metal legends, Sleep. In fact, he doesn’t even think ‘Dopesmoker’ is that good. We know, because he told us fifteen times before the album finally ended along with our faith in getting our weed within the following two hours.
Dan has his own ‘recording studio’ in his basement. One of these days he plans on crafting a multi-instrumental solo album like his long-time hero Kevin Parker, but he’ll probably just take a bong rip and fuck with the knobs on his modular synth for three hours instead. Regardless, ‘Lonerism’ is Dan’s favorite album and its lyrical themes make him feel proud of personality aspects that most people would attempt to correct in therapy. Not only did this listening session delay our score by almost a full hour, but now we can’t get ‘Elephant’ out of our heads.
Did you know all the lines on the cover of this album are more than just pretty colors? Each segment represents a thematic element featured in the album’s lyrics and there’s even a manual to decode it on the back of the record. Dan attempted to explain this to us for over an hour but admitted we probably wouldn’t understand it since we aren’t synesthetes like him. To be fair, though, it was pretty amusing watching Dan attempt to build the Rube Goldberg machine featured in the band’s video for ‘This Too Shall Pass.’
Dan fucking loves this album, and its title is appropriate because as soon as he put it on, we became ‘Paranoid’ that we would never leave his apartment again. Much less with the eighth we asked for over an hour ago. This album is a fine listen any other time. When watching your dealer and the three other people over at his apartment play air guitar over every track while occasionally yelling ‘Duuuuude’ at Bill Ward’s drum fills, it gets very tiring very quickly.
A song from this album actually came up on Dan’s Spotify radio while he was yelling at us for not clearing a hit out of his steamroller. Our bad. Anyway, he stopped scolding us only briefly to ask ‘What band was this chick in?’ We kept yelling ‘Rilo Kiley! She was in Rilo Kiley!’ track after track, which almost got his attention until he remembered we hadn’t cleared his ungodly smoking device yet and continued lecturing us until the album’s end.
Born in Bennington, Vermont, Donald Sheffield was raised in a paper yurt on the backside of an abandoned ski slope. He once attempted to invent his own astrological symbol which he called called “Sagitauri-Picer.”
Glen Morris was born in San Francisco to parents Paul and Trinian Morris, the tech moguls behind the successful startup www.fuckable-furbies.com. He often cited the exposure to corporate greed and soulless exploitation of the tech boom at a young age as his inspiration for getting involved in the music industry.
Born in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Angelica Lorenstein moved to New York City in 1973, making the entire journey riding on bison back. She soon established her presence in the burgeoning Bowery scene, and was known by the distinctive bison-skin coat she always wore and the fact that she always smelled like slaughtered bison meat.