4 out of 5

Label: HitIt! Recordings, DeSoto Records

Produced by: Shiner

Shiner jump way beyond their somewhat confused debut with followup Lula Divinia, holding on to their punkier roots but much more comfortable in letting songs stretch out, allowing singer and guitarist Allan Epley find his way to more interesting, painterly lyricism as well.

I had initially typified Shiner as an emo band, music unheard. My reasons for this are… dumb, but the version of the band I’d imagined does, admittedly, start to form here: more expansive guitar work; slightly more noodly on the bass; and a vocal style that might be called “yearning.” However, unsurprisingly, that version – a snap description based on genericizing the fanbase at the time, and the context in which I heard select songs – misses a lot of nuance. Even allowing for that, though, I wish I’d heard Lula Divinia back then (my reference points came after this album), because I do think the depth of both the songwriting and words are pretty undeniable.

The band’s sophomore release moves that out from under the production influence of post-rock / punk mainstay Bob Weston and goes in-house, while also swapping in pivotal new bassist Paul Malinowski, who surely encourages the album’s broadened and deeper sound, evident from the start: opener The Situationist is in no rush to drop into its heavier conclusion, crafting melody first and giving Epley room to breathe life into some interesting imagery. Throughout the album, Allen remains very focused on relationships, but there’s a fascinating push to view things from multiple points of view that is best employed in these “bigger” songs. …Balanced out by tracks like ‘Christ Size Shoes,’ a followup punker that’s a bit in the form of Splay and more linear, musically and lyrically; this stylistic back-and-forth happens through the album, giving us a good middleground, and only really causing the band to stretch too far in the Splay direction briefly, with ‘Shelflife’s shouted conclusion feeling a bit tacked on. But even with these callbacks – and whether it’s the Paul influence or just the band evolving – everything gets anted up by the inclusion of more notable math riffage, making the pummeling conclusions of a lot of tracks feel absolutely epic as the players iterate on already badass riffs.

Lula Divinia is exactly what you want from a second release: it doesn’t ditch what worked, necessarily, but moves the band into territory they can call their own, taking what was promising and fulfilling that promise.