I’ll never forget the first time I heard On the Impossible Past. I had a copy from a friend who told me for months to check out The Menzingers and that this album would blow my mind. I was in my car getting ready to head to work, when I finally decided to fire up the record on my iPod. At the time I was 23, I was in my first year out of college, working a job I hated and was missing the great times I was having with friends months earlier. As I put the car in drive, the words “I’ve been having a horrible time, pulling myself together,” spilled out of my speakers and time stopped. “Good Things” immediately wowed me and all I could do was turn up volume up.
On that drive to work, I never made it past “Burn After Writing.” I kept going back to “Good Things” and repeatedly listened to the opening two tracks bleed into each other. It wasn’t until my ride home where I discovered “The Obituaries” and what the rest of the album had to offer. Listening to On the Impossible Past in full for the first time was truly an out of body experience for me. The storytelling by singer/guitarist Greg Barnett and singer/guitarist Tom May swept me off to a different world that took place years ago; I was getting drunk in the back of a Lions Club, I was getting drunk with Casey before I did dishes and then I walked home single, seeing double.
For those who love and listen to a ton of music, I firmly believe the right band or album will fall right into your lap when you need it the most and that’s exactly what happened to me with On the Impossible Past. On Feb. 21, this nostalgic masterpiece of an album, turns 10-years-old.
While it does indeed live in the past, there’s something timeless about the album which makes it special and why so many have connected with this record since its release. From “Good Things” all the way through “Freedom Bridge” there’s relatable lyrics, picture perfect storytelling of moments that have passed, shout at the top of your lungs choruses, all of which make it the perfect companion for the ups and downs we face every day in life.
All of these ideas are why this record is so relatable, but the biggest factor is because it’s the ideal soundtrack for anyone transitioning from one part of life to another. This includes looking back on days that have happened already while you might be stuck in a rut in the present. This theme smacks you in the face immediately on the opener, “Good Things”, where Barnett asks the question of why all good things should fall apart, all while laying out how he’s barely holding it all together. “Good Things” then leaps right into “Burn After Writing”, where May grabs the mic and screams out one of the catchiest choruses in the band’s catalog, while also wondering if he’s been wishing on satellites and noting that certain memories he has are a problem.
The inner battles echoed on the albums first two tracks were further pushed front and center on “The Obituaries”. For anyone who has ever struggled with confidence and self-doubt, this track continues to allow you to gather all those feelings and yell them out of your system. “I will fuck this up, I fucking know it” Barnett bellows on the anthemic chorus that continues to bring the roof down during the band’s live shows. The incredible opening of the record continues with “Gates”, a song littered with canned thoughts from Barnett’s cabinet brain and the lonely soul realization that happiness is just a moment.
On the Impossible Past changes gears a bit on “Ava House”, a tribute to a place where the band used to play that left them hoping the floors would hold this time. The record then leaves this party atmosphere to return to the “loneliest corner in the whole world” on “Sun Hotel.” Barnett showcases his skills as a singer on this track as he bounces back and forth between cooing lines about remembering you well at the Sun Hotel to screaming that he’ll “leave you alone.” Up next, “Sculptors and Vandals” is a short B-Side that could be interpreted in a number of different ways, especially the ending where May sings “walk home single, seeing double.” There have been nights where one had a few too many and you could literally be walking home seeing double or maybe you’re walking home alone, drunk, wishing there was someone by your side.
“Mexican Guitars” is another piece of artwork highlighting the bands unique ability to paint a clear portrait in your mind and to take you back to another place in time. “You were an old friend, who covered up your innocence with bad tattoos, of all the bands you loved in high school, the ones you said I had to listen to, all the time,” Barnett sings. Just when you might be having flashbacks to high school, the band takes you back to a time involving drinking and driving on “On the Impossible Past”, where the end result was an American muscle car being crashed into a ditch. The track ends in a dream of nice things that appropriately jumps into the shoegazy opening riffs of “Nice Things,” another song off the album that remains a fan favorite.
The back half of the album wraps up with “Casey”, “I Can’t Seem to Tell” and “Freedom Bridge.” “Casey” is the best case study of the band looking back on great times in the past where they avoided dealing with problems surrounding them. On “I Can’t Seem to Tell”, Barnett shouted about not knowing if it was his head or the Earth that was spinning around while bassist Eric Keen’s bassline perfectly complimented the way Barnett delivered each lyric. On the Impossible Past then concludes with “Freedom Bridge”, a darker track that tells a story from different points of view, all while touching on themes of substance abuse and suicide as these characters battle their inner demons. On a record that consistently deals with the past, the final track almost serves as a cautionary tale on what could happen if the past consumes you and you aren’t able to move forward.
After listening to the record all the way through for the first time, this one stayed on constant rotation for almost a year. While I wasn’t happy with my present, this was the record that pushed me out of my funk. I became content with my past and accepted that while they were great times I was coming out of, that didn’t mean that the future couldn’t be just as special. Eventually, I found myself in a good place and was satisfied with what came after the party was over.
On the Impossible Past is and will always be a special record. It’s an album that means a lot to many, which is evident by essays some have written and podcasts that have been created in its honor (special shoutout to On the Impossible Pod). While not everyone may have driven around carelessly in American muscle cars or waited to hang out with someone on their shift breaks, the album transcends you back into another time in your life. For me, I used to drive around for hours in a Honda Accord, I’d hang out with people on breaks during shifts at a Stop & Shop and that time really was easier than dealing with everything else going on at the time. Many have similar experiences that they can find themselves travelling back to when listening to On the Impossible Past, but at the end of the day it’s on the listener to come to terms with those days gone by and embrace what could happen in the possible future. It’s this idea that makes this album a timeless classic, one that should be admired for many more decades to come.