Montreal punk four-piece FakeYou are set to release their debut full-length album Promise to Disappear Friday, April 3, on Atlanta-based 59 X Records. Playing on the concept of a “promise to appear”, that formal obligation to show up when summoned, Promise to Disappear explores various forms of disappearance as a means of survival in a world of increasing conformity and homogeneity, whether manifesting as fractured identity, negation of self, or a slow descent into less-than-ideal coping mechanisms. Melding the fuzzy grit of grunge and emo with the zeal of pop-punk and the clever sophistications of alt rock, the punk quartet has created an album that, layered under vocalist Guillaume Menard’s throaty vocals, emerges as a heavy, sincere and ultimately, deeply recognizable treatise on who we are and who we are allowed to be. Powerful, organic and encompassing as any instant classic, Promise to Disappear is one of this year’s standout releases from a band that are quickly becoming ones to watch.

The record settles comfortably into itself with gauzy, mellow opener “Wanderlost”, under hazy layers of guitar propelled by a rolling beat. Caught between disillusionment and alienation, the journeys we embark on as we begin to wander off the path of convention will force us to consider how– and if – we want to be seen.

From there, we are led across the album’s ten tracks through a labyrinthine funhouse of feelings as the band sorts through the myriad manifestations of confusion and pain. Time slows on lead single “Tieluck”, an amber-trapped study of the only holdover in a small town quietly slipping into obsolescence, and spins twilight into an endless day on the breathless, lurching “100 Million Sheep”, rhythmic switches mirroring the uneasy cadence of being tugged in and out of a half-sleep. When it all becomes too much to bear, vanishing acts take the form of refuge in addiction on the beautifully harmonious and deceptively upbeat “Solace”, quick comforts for the desperate and lonely that take a dark and poisonous turn. Our emotional wreckage eventually washes up on the shoes of the jeering, semitonal “Like Helium Balloons”, stripped down to a shouting chorus taunting the listener for having been abandoned by their better angels in a pointless quest for the truth.

We are not always the sole architects of our own misery, however, as Promise to Disappear evokes in equal measure the ways in which love and loss reshape us, leaning into percussive elements that invoke a somatic response. Steeped in the sticky syrup of wistful reminiscence, “Faded Scarf” recalls once-cherished memories now wallowed in, a thumping bassline pulsing like a heartbeat under a heavy wall of slow, driving sound. Every drumbeat is like a blow to the chest on “All About You’s” vast and anthemic bridge, echoing the singular enormity of losing someone who came to define your existence. Who we are when these things fade away is a conversation we never quite seem ready to have.

Even the record’s more uplifting songs are tinged with melancholy, though no less with meaning. For those suffering the acute pains of heartbreak or burdened by the heavy impress of despair, there is the soft, emo-infused “Midnight Sun”, a gentle reminder that those less-than-ideal moments that make the nights feel endless are not everlasting. Disappearance can be graceful, it seems, when we are allowed to drop the exhausting pretense of perfection and settle a little bit more into who we really are.

Extensive meditations on love, loss and life tend to serve as fertile ground for existentialism, and it all finally comes to a head on the rollicking pop-punk “Spitshine”, from its jaunty opening bass lick through to the throat-ripping chorus outro: the song’s final moments find Menard’s control wrested away from him by his howling alter ego, whatever sensible opinion that might have been had on the meaning of life ultimately giving way to the sweet release of no longer caring at all. It certainly is no antidote, but as we have learned, we tend to take our comforts in whatever form they come.

On an album whose relentless pursuit of authenticity leaves us with more questions than answers, closing track “Following Protocol” serves as something of its thesis, a bitter final reflection on the lonely realization that a life spent doing as you’re told has yielded little reward. The slow-simmering track steadily builds to a colossally powerful outro, a cathartic tidal wave of feeling that crashes furiously down before receding quietly back into the sea. We are, ultimately, no less lost than when we started. But we might be more equipped to weather what comes.

Each song on Promise to Disappear pulls in a different way at the fabric of what it means to be human, unravelling the threads of personal experience and spinning them into familiar shapes. Love and loss, anger and confusion, the cruel distortions of time, the pains of separation: Promise to Disappear takes the intemporal, intangible, constantly shifting agitation of being alive and weaves it into a common and shareable language that permeates the boundaries of our individual selves, recounting the exhaustion of our endless negotiation with life in a vocabulary common to us all. Menard’s rhythm and LeBrun’s lead guitars twist and wind around each other in an intricate lattice of harmonies and countermelodies that layer over bassist Jay Changizi’s deft and melodious basslines to create a sound that is stunningly lush and deep, the perfect backdrop for Menard’s keen and incisive lyrics. The alternation of heavy riffs with sparse, porous bridges creates a pulse that radiates through the album like a living organism. What results is an record whose bracing depth and vulnerability are its most enduring assets.

From scene veterans with an uncompromising dedication to their craft comes a meticulously crafted and dazzlingly executed debut record. Be sure to head over to the group’s Bandcamp to stream Promise to Disappear or snag a copy of it on gorgeous butter-yellow vinyl. If you’re lucky enough to have a foot in the door of Montreal’s thriving underground, you can catch one of their electric live performances here and in the surrounding neighbourhoods throughout the spring and summer.

Photos by À L’affiche Montréal