There’s a rare kind of confidence that comes from building something entirely on your own and Bury The Pines wear that confidence like armor. Their debut full-length, Industry Plant, doesn’t sound like a first record. It sounds like a proof of concept; that a band can throw post-hardcore, progressive rock, math rock, and pure emotional chaos into a blender, hit “record,” and still come out with something coherent, even exhilarating. It’s sharp, restless, and endlessly replayable. The kind of album that feels handcrafted rather than assembled; honest in a way most music these days is too scared to be.
The most remarkable part? It’s completely self-produced. Guitarist and member Evan Hendrix handled the engineering, mixing, and mastering himself, which is both insane and impressive because this doesn’t sound like an in-house demo; it sounds huge. Every crash of cymbal, every trembling riff, every breath between verses feels surgically placed. It’s like a modern update on Tiny Moving Parts’ precision and energy; those hairpin time signatures and melodic math-rock inflections, but filtered through the wide-screen emotional palette of Turnstile’s Glow On. There’s catharsis here, but it’s never messy. It’s designed to hit.
A Perfect Tomorrow kicks off the album with a deceptive brightness, all interlocking guitars and nervous optimism. It’s the kind of opener that dares you to feel hopeful while keeping an eye on the storm clouds. Then Hearts On Fire arrives, brimming with melodic tension and vocals that sound like Bloc Party if Kele Okereke had grown up screaming in basements instead of clubs. There’s that familiar ache; the one where joy and grief blur together into something you can dance to.
Pardon My French is where the band truly flexes. The riffs tumble over each other like an argument that’s getting out of hand, the rhythm section swinging from control to collapse and back again. It’s playful, even as it threatens to unravel; a bit like what you’d get if Turnstile decided to jam with TTNG after five energy drinks. By contrast, Music Over Money plays the rebel’s hymn. It’s defiant without self-pity, a shot fired at the soullessness of industry logic. It’s not subtle, but that’s the point. Bury The Pines aren’t trying to be cool; they’re trying to be real, and they’re too skilled to miss.
Then comes Jade Shadow (featuring Stay Gone), the album’s emotional centerpiece. This is where everything clicks; the band’s technical precision, Hendrix’s studio ear, and the raw, unguarded vulnerability that holds it all together. It’s a gorgeous, ghostly track that feels halfway between an anthem and an exorcism. The guitars shimmer like heat haze before dropping into something darker and heavier, like watching sunlight filter through wreckage. It’s moody, cinematic, and painfully human.
By Afternoon in June, the chaos softens. The guitars become distant and warm, the vocals almost whispered, like a memory you’re afraid to say out loud. It’s a moment of calm that proves Bury The Pines can do more than just break things; they can build quiet, too. And then Circle Back Around closes the record with something resembling peace. It’s six minutes of release, revisiting the motifs and rhythms of earlier tracks as if to say: yes, we survived. The final moments fade not with exhaustion but with resolve.
What’s truly striking about Industry Plant is how unguarded it feels. The band doesn’t posture or preen; they mean every note. It’s an album that bleeds sincerity while still embracing the technical fireworks of their influences. Imagine the emotional clarity of Tiny Moving Parts, the rhythmic swagger of Turnstile, and the cinematic melancholy of Nouvelle Story, all wired into something unmistakably their own.
In summation, Bury The Pines sound defiantly human. Industry Plant is a love letter to imperfection to the joy of making noise with your friends until it starts to sound like something true. It’s messy, intentional, beautiful, and most of all, real. The kind of debut that doesn’t just promise a future; it insists on one.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
