Triumphant sets at Outbreak this year, a constantly-growing following; it’s all going right for the Long Islanders. Three years in and a slew of lauded EPs, debut album Would You Miss It? arrives with a bang, the sound of a band who’ve poured everything they have into a collection of songs that sound like misspent summers spinning your favourite records from growing up as well as a wry wistfulness, all the while without sounding dated itself.
‘51st State’ is an uproarious opener, barreling out the gates with vocalist Joseph Chiaramonte’s buoyant, slightly gravelly tones. It sets the scene for the remainder of Would You Miss It? with its joyous, nostalgic and anthemic nature, like it’s custom built to get fists pumping and throats sore from shouting the words back. ‘You’re On the List (minus one)’ is bouncy with driving guitars reminiscent of early New Found Glory, its chorus embracing a half-time melody. The most important thing Koyo manage though, throughout the album, is to inject a dose of melancholy almost wistfulness that fits its autumnal release perfectly.
Final single ‘Life’s A Pill’ has a verse hook that’ll stick in your head for days, while drummer Salvatore Argento does his best to turn the kit into powder during ‘Flatline Afternoon’. Koyo are well aware whose long shadows they stand in too, embracing that influence; they rope in Glassjaw’s Daryl Palumbo for the more mid-paced ‘Message Like a Bomb’ that still goes off like, well, a bomb. It’s the kind of halftime chorus that has lighters aloft and throats raw from singing it back. Palumbo himself isn’t overly noticeable but it’s still a ringing endorsement from a scene legend.
‘I Might Not’ embraces a bright guitar tone and driving drumming that counterpoints the more raw lyricism, upping the hardcore influence significantly while still retaining a thread of the pop punk influence they grew up on. The aforementioned ‘Flatline Afternoon’ embraces screamo with a guest appearance from Anthony DiDio of Vein.fm that goes for the jugular and stays there for the full duration. It’s an album that’s self-assured, making sure each vocal appearance was written specifically with that person in mind, adapting their style into Koyo, even when you might not expect it to work, like the belligerent nihilism of Vein.fm.
Ultimately, Koyo have found a way to not only embrace the music they love and make something both nostalgic and deeply relevant through drawing on their own lived experience, but to take the bar constantly being raised by modern hardcore – and vault over it. They’ve won fans left right and centre with their emotional, relatable and anthemic melodicism, music that’s as mosh-ready as it is campfire sing-along. Their dedication to their craft is beyond reproach, every minute of those six weeks spent writing and recording the songs well-spent. Koyo are the soundtrack to lost summers and the oncoming autumn, and they’ll only get bigger.