Post-punk and corporate jargon have seldom been this intimate. When Charts and Graphs dropped “Assume the Position,” I wasn’t expecting them to twist a cubicle-bound lexicon into something that dances around your brain like your 1984 office nightmares had a rhythmic pulse. But here we are, shoulders bouncing while existential dread whispers in the ear. It’s synthetic, it’s tangible, but it’s also claustrophobic. It’s like you’re shimmying through reports and deadlines that carry moral weight, yet those synth lines make sure you’re doing so in some glitter-covered combat boots.
“Memo” is more than just a scathing email to your inbox; it’s a punchline that isn’t funny. The track seethes with a critique of our digital personas, laughing at the hollow shells we’ve become, yet somehow suggesting we’re all comedians trying to find the punchline in a meandering, scrolling life. There’s a jerky paranoia beneath the groove that channels Devo’s mechanical alarms. At the same time, Dan’s vocals, equal parts preacher and cynic, invite us to circle the drain just a little longer. “Who’s laughing?” the song seems to ask.
“Said It, Mean It” gives vulnerability an electric backbone. With technology constantly buffering our emotions, this song pleads for clarity and truth behind the constant noise. It’s like crafting an emotional text that the algorithm can never predict, awkward and real but immensely satisfying once it finally gets through. A pulse runs through it—the kind that draws you into a club, but you’re dancing while trying to close all those emotional tabs in your head.
And then there’s “Head Space.” The basslines in this track stretch like elastic tied around a growing sense of isolation. It’s not sad, per se—it’s more like floating in a sensory deprivation tank of your own thoughts. Gary’s drums are sharp yet maintain an ethereal quality, as if the beat isn’t sure whether to crash down or just drift. You feel the weight of self-sabotage here, the aching distance between souls, and yet it feels strangely placating, like a friend offering you headphones to drown it all out.
“Pressure Pressure” doesn’t just talk about being crushed—it shrinks and expands you like some bizarre physics experiment of modern life. The repetition of “pushing down” feels like a mantra for everyone who’s shouldering too much responsibility while trying to hold fast to a moment of calm. There’s a suffocating circularity that’s viciously magnetic—you can’t help keep coming back for another round of the same grind, drawn by the promise of Ross’ grounding bass lines pinning everything just enough.
“Janeen” (or is it Jenny? Does it matter?) smacks you in the heart like a forgotten voicemail from a night out, aglow with intoxicated longing. There’s something almost hypnotic about the repetition, like you’re on that sixth loop in your head during a moment of silent obsession. Desire becomes a chant, wanting to cling to something—but also fearful of what it might mean to grasp too tightly. The simplicity traps you, weaving fragments of past romance into your present hungover reflection.
Then we hit the gritty pavement with “Physical Specimen.” If there’s a track that screams mall-rat nihilism, it’s this one. Materialism bleeds here in a smirk that won’t fade, with Dan’s voice coldly surveying a landscape of disposable encounters. There’s nothing tender here, not a shred. Every cynical quip about trading in something real for something shiny burns with recognition, yet you can’t help but nod along.
“Targets and Timelines” is practically shooting out of a cannon with its critique of endless ambition. Ever meet someone who became *the job*? Yeah, this one’s for them (and probably about them too). It captures the cutthroat race to the top with a businessman as unnerving as he is mesmerizing. Pairing chirpy synths with twisted plays on power, this track mirrors a world where endless targets make you dizzy but reaching them might be worse. “Plastic briefcases” never sounded so ominous.
With “Wake Up!,” we’re slapping ourselves on the face under flickering fluorescent lights. It’s a call to arms, but for what, exactly? There’s a starkness here—not a war cry, but rather a personal revolt. When they sing “leaving the platinum behind,” it doesn’t feel like a metaphor for abandoning wealth—it feels like shedding a skin. This is a mirror in a public restroom, where you take a long, hard look and decide today, maybe, you’ll fix just one thing in your messy little cosmos.
“Beat the Heat” is as much a vibe as it is a reminder that resistance is futile. The heat, much like those unrelenting thoughts at 3 am, isn’t something to fight, but to surrender to. Slithering synths and a humid bassline slow everything down, suggesting that maybe, possibly, the secret lies in stopping the chase altogether. Let the sweat come.
And “Who Watches the Watchmen”? It’s all about wanting to run yet staying tethered. The song builds an environment where the fog of loud inner noise battles an urge for escape. With each repetition about wanting to go, the intensity swells, making it less of a statement and more of a plea. Can you ever truly break from the very thing you’re intertwined with?
Ultimately, “Assume the Position” is a twisting mirror of modern life, bouncing between desire, disillusionment, and the fleeting promises of control. Beneath all the syncopated beats and jittering synths is a shared restlessness, a need to navigate the glaring contradictions of society while keeping ourselves from falling apart… one dance at a time.
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