Story of the Year: A.R.S.O.N.

On their eighth studio album A.R.S.O.N., Story of the Year sound like a band fully aware of their legacy yet unwilling to stay confined within it. This is their most polished release: every riff feels razor-sharp, every chorus built for clarity and impact. That refinement, however, comes with a genre-hopping approach that can feel disorienting at first. Metalcore weight meets glossy hard-rock hooks, while melodic post-hardcore shifts toward near-radio alt moments, creating a sense of whiplash from track to track. Rather than weakening the record, that unpredictability becomes part of its strength. A.R.S.O.N. doesn’t so much flow as it surges forward, keeping the listener alert and curious, and that tension makes it a compelling, if slightly chaotic, listen.

‘Gasoline (All Rage Still Only Numb)’ sets the tone for A.R.S.O.N. in the most confrontational way possible, functioning as an opening salvo that’s also almost a title track in spirit, especially once you realise the album acronym spells out the song’s subtitle. The guitars blare in like an air-raid siren: shrill and urgent, immediately signalling aggression over subtlety. It’s easily one of the most sonically arresting moments on the record. ‘Story of the Year’ sound locked in here, channeling pent-up frustration into a tightly wound, modernised post-hardcore attack, though the band’s trademark polish slightly blunts what could have been a more volatile edge. The track leans into familiar themes of fury and emotional burnout, working more as a mission statement than a bold reinvention. Still, as an opener, ‘Gasoline’ does its job: it grabs you by the collar and dares you to keep up, even as it quietly signals the stylistic zigzags that lie ahead. 

‘Fall Away’ is one of the clearest examples of A.R.S.O.N.’s genre-blurring identity, initially pulling the listener somewhere unexpected before snapping back into familiar territory. The song opens with a distinctly nu-metal-leaning swagger, an almost rap-cadenced verse paired with a smooth, melodic chorus that wouldn’t feel out of place on early-2000s alternative radio. For a moment, it’s jarring and you might question exactly which version of Story of the Year you’re getting. Then the signature guitars kick in accompanied by those slightly screamed vocals that immediately re-anchor the track in the band’s post-hardcore roots. It’s an incredible song, tight, catchy and undeniably effective but its shifting identity reinforces the album’s larger push-and-pull between styles. That contrast may be confusing on paper, yet in practice it adds to the record’s strangely compelling, wonderfully varied listening experience.

‘3 A.M.’ initially feels like it’s about to double down on the aggression of ‘Gasoline’ opening with a similarly urgent drive before quickly pivoting into something far more melodic and familiar. The track gradually settles into a pop-punk lean, complete with bright hooks and emotional immediacy, reminding us that this isn’t the first time Story of the Year have comfortably stepped into that lane and it shows in how effortlessly the song unfolds. While it’s another undeniably strong cut, ‘3 A.M.’ does feel slightly out of place when stacked against the surrounding post-hardcore anthems. Still, that contrast works in its favor, reading less like a misstep and more like a deliberate nod to the band’s early emo roots. As a change of pace, it’s refreshing, pairing that melodic warmth with lyrics steeped in regret and heartbreak – offering a moment of emotional clarity amid the record’s sonic turbulence.

Closing track ‘I Don’t Wanna Feel Like This Anymore’ lands with the kind of sweeping, arena-ready energy that makes it immediately feel like the right note to end on. Built on massive hooks and a cathartic chorus designed for fists-in-the-air moments, the song leans into a more pop-punk-adjacent vibe, similar to ‘3 A.M.’ while still carrying enough weight to feel earned after the album’s heavier emotional and sonic currents. It’s disarmingly direct, centred on emotional overload and the desire to shut everything out, a sentiment that resonates all the more after the tension and rage threaded throughout A.R.S.O.N. Ending the record on a lighter, more melodic note could have felt jarring, but instead it feels intentional, offering release rather than escalation. As a closer, it doesn’t just wrap things up neatly, it provides a sense of emotional exhale, making it a fitting and effective final statement.

Ultimately, A.R.S.O.N. is an album defined by contrast: between polish and rawness, familiarity and experimentation, cohesion and chaos. Story of the Year sound more confident and technically refined than ever, even if that refinement sometimes comes at the expense of a sharper edge, and the constant genre pivoting can feel disorienting when taken as a whole. Still, that unpredictability is also the record’s greatest strength, keeping the listening experience engaging and refusing to settle into autopilot. While not every stylistic swing lands with equal impact, the band’s commitment to emotional honesty and anthemic songwriting never wavers. A.R.S.O.N. may not be the most cohesive entry in Story of the Year’s catalog, but it’s one of their most intriguing, an album that rewards patience, embraces risk and proves they’re still willing to evolve, even if it means leaving a few bruises along the way.