Stanley Climbfall (2002)

Where No Name Face lived in melodic post-grunge, Stanley Climbfall trades that warmth for something heavier, and a lot more shadow. Some people say the sophomore record fell victim to the slump. I’m not one of them, though I won’t pretend it’s flawless. This is Lifehouse going bluer, darker, and grungier on purpose, and when it connects, it hits harder than anything on the debut.

It connects immediately. Spin is the iconic opener and my favorite track on the album. Following a debut that successful was never going to be easy, but Spin doesn’t flinch. It’s a firecracker that establishes the darker path in a matter of seconds. This one rocks HARD, and as someone who’s seen the band live, I’ll say it should be on every setlist they ever play. It’s a stomper and a belter, built on a strong rock hook, and it proves Jason Wade can genuinely wail when he wants to. The outro is one of the strongest in the entire Lifehouse catalog. Pure stank-face, headbanging rock.

From there the record settles into its groove, sometimes literally. Wash is where Rick Woolstenhulme knocks it out of the park. It’s a smart, dynamic touch, even if the song structure lets the track blur slightly into the pack. Sky Is Falling has no such problem. Alongside Spin, it’s one of the most memorable things here, all big hooks and twinkling guitars, with the drums riding almost entirely on the toms. There’s a richness to it that recalls Nirvana’s Come as You Are. Then Anchor drops into some of the heaviest territory on the album. The drums crash, the power chords land with real weight, and Jason sings with the bruised confidence of someone who’s been hurt and is done hiding it. You can hear the plea in it, the ache, the holding on.

The middle stretch is where the record has to work hardest to keep its footing. Am I Gonna Find Out gives and takes better than the couple of tracks before it, though its hook carries a gritty whine that’ll thrill 90s grunge diehards more than it lands for me. There’s still some interesting orchestration and guitar work worth catching. The title track pulls things back into balance. Stanley Climbfall, stand, climb, and fall, hands Jason more room to move, with ad-libs that echo the debut. That deep haunt in his voice, paired with heavier guitars and drums, is what makes it a Climbfall song rather than a debut leftover, and arriving after two heavy cuts, it finally lets the listener breathe. Out of Breath doesn’t let them rest for long. Jason turns in his best Kurt Cobain impression here, and Sergio Andrade’s driving bassline hauls the crashing energy back to the front.

The album’s strongest one-two of rockers comes next. Just Another Name picks up the tempo with driving guitars and halftime drums, and it lands one of the best riffs and hooks on the record. It’s a crowd-pleaser built for a singalong, and the bassline underneath does so much work that it deserves its own round of applause. Take Me Away makes its single status obvious. It’s got the most commercial-rock riff on the whole album, the kind of song you just know tore up karaoke bars in 2002, right between the Nickelback hits. From there the record turns inward for good. My Precious is the moody ballad, a clear cousin to Closer to the Sun on the next album. It’s the song for a rainy day right after a heartbreak, when you want to stare out the window and imagine you’re in the saddest scene of a drama. Jason’s falsetto is genuinely moving.

The final run leans all the way into the mood. Empty Space pairs another great Rick groove with acoustic strums, opening up some electric breathing room. It’s one of the moodiest cuts here, and one an eighth-grade me felt personally seen by. I know, Mr. Drama King... The orchestration is the point, pulling the emotion right to the surface. The Beginning keeps that atmosphere going, and it lodged itself in my adolescent brain early on through its harmonies and its warm sense of togetherness in the chorus. How Long works a similar angle to Take Me Away, hanging its chorus on a big belt, but it opens on a brighter picked riff. Of the two, I prefer this one. It’s more dynamic and vocally varied, and it takes me straight back to a very specific stretch of my life with my iPod Nano. The record then closes on Sky Is Falling (Acoustic), which keeps everything great about the full-band version and adds a little more warmth. Stripped back, it proves the song never needed the accompaniment to work.

Stanley Climbfall doesn’t reach the heights of the debut, and it doesn’t try to. A few tracks blur together in the middle, and the relentless mood can wear on you across a full sit-through. But the sophomore-slump talk badly undersells what this record actually is: the sound of a young band deliberately walking into heavier, darker rooms to see what they could do there. When it works, on Spin, on Sky Is Falling, on Just Another Name, it hits with a force the debut never even reached for. It’s the necessary shadow before the self-titled record steps back into the sun.

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Highlight Songs:

• Spin

• Sky Is Falling

• Just Another Name

• How Long

• Empty Space

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Own it, Stream it, Forget about it?

Own it. The sophomore-slump talk is overblown. This is a band getting heavier and darker on purpose, and when it lands, it’s some of the hardest-hitting stuff in the catalog. A few tracks blur, but the highs more than earn the shelf space.

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Overall Rating:

3.5 Stars