When they hit the scene back in 2019 with their debut EP What’s Mine Is Yours, it was clear that Arm’s Length weren’t just “another emo band.” And when they released their debut album, Never Before Seen, Never Again Found, an album that was a portrait of emotional overload and growing pains from the band’s progression from teens to young adults it quickly became clear that through their strong and raw songwriting, we were dealing with a very reflective band. A band that wasn’t afraid to say it as it is and welcomed us into moments of darkness and moments of happiness.
Now, the Canadian four-piece Arm’s Length returns with their second full-length album, There’s a Whole World Out There. It’s an album that’s steeped in longing – for places, for people, even for versions of ourselves that either don’t exist anymore or got left behind along the way. And while you’re reading this, thinking “gosh, another emo band singing about being stuck in the past” – I want to say this much; this isn’t about being frozen in the “what ifs” or “what could have beens”. It’s an album where Arm’s Length has a conversation with the past.
Written primarily by frontman and guitarist Allen Steinberg, in quiet moments, and brought to life with the full band, these 12 tracks reflect a sharper sense of perspective. There are still plenty of heartbreaking moments to linger in, but it just hits differently now – a lot less unraveling, and more putting the pieces back together. And even when the lyrics cut deep, because they do, there’s a sense of calmness behind them. It’s less anxiousness and trying to hold on too tightly, more acceptance, more reflection on growth, grief, and finding the strength to keep going and doing our best as humans.
The opener, “The World,” sounds like a continuation of sound from Never Before Seen, Never Again Found – but more assured and clearer. With dreamy guitars that swirl around you, this is what Arm’s Length excels at: the ability to pull you under into a space where aching nostalgia and overthinking can live side by side, with Jeremy Whyte’s guitar that cuts cleanly through the intense atmosphere that was built up through the track, as if a memory was stumbling across you, without you even taking a minute to realize it. Steinberg’s vocals carry a certain softness to them, yet are insistent, toeing the line between guilt and tenderness as he wrestles with what it means to care a bit too much. “Fatal Flaws” is a standout track on the album, with its hardcore edges and stripped-back breaks in the song, which gives it a moment to breathe and let the lyrics wash over you. The band is begging you to see how far you’ve come.
“You Ominously End” was the second single from the album and one of the most adventurous tracks. It blends banjos and bluegrass tones with pop-punk. This unexpected pairing doesn’t feel gimmicky. In fact, the contrast between the bright instrumental arrangement and the devastating lyrics about being a lifeline during a mental health crisis mirrors the disconnect between how people can often carry pain while smiling and appearing happy on the outside.
In fact, as There’s a Whole World Out There continues, it doesn’t lose its edge, with tracks like “The Weight” and “Funny Face” that lean more into the band’s more aggressive side, with sharp, more energetic riffs and the punchy rhythms that nod to the early 2000s pop-punk sound. Yet, even as the volume goes up, the lyrics are focused on staying grounded in reflection. The same goes for “Genetic Lottery” and ”Halley”, paired with luminous melodies and lyrics that hit harder the longer you sit with the tracks.
The album’s quieter moments appear on “Palinopsia”; it’s here that the growth really sticks its landing. While leaning into pop-punk territory, the slow burn of its acoustic-driven verses leads into the explosive chorus and a climactic bridge full of emotional intensity. It’s a clear signal that this is a band no longer unraveling, but resting in themselves.
And it all ends with “Morning Person” – a nearly seven-minute track. A slow-burning track that combines all the things explored on the album and threads them together into one last gut-wrenching moment. The anthemic, Americana layers, cinematic, and explosive end, once again, give us the perfect closing to Arm’s Length.
With There’s a Whole World Out There, Arm’s Length hasn’t forgotten its roots. The raw honesty, the emotions that they have provoked in us since 2019, are still there, but they have refined them. There’s no chasing closure, because closure is something so individual, and Arm’s Length is a band that is so self-aware, they’re not interested in wrapping things up just for the sake of it. Instead, they are letting us sit in the discomfort, embracing the longing for something or someone there once was, the grief, and they turn it into something beautiful. To say it nicely, there’s no blueprint tucked inside these 12 tracks – it’s about learning to carry the weight and moving on.
