The world would be a darker place without Rancid, the indestructible punk outfit who have carved out a unique place in the punk firmament over the course of some thirty-two years. Constant companions, Rancid epitomise the sound of US punk – rambunctious, yet surprisingly melodic – and they have lost none of their ramshackle charm. It has been a long wait for Tomorrow Never Comes – six years – but if the band’s writing pace has slowed the band’s frantic early years (in which they smashed out six albums in just over a decade), their frantic delivery surely hasn’t and, for this, their tenth album, they simply turn up, plug in, and let rip. With Epitaph founder Brett Gurewitz behind the desk, they manage to dispatch sixteen songs in just under twenty-nine minutes, the only real surprise being just how damned catchy they managed to make it all.
It all kicks off with the title track, a full-throttle belter that urges action now in the face of an increasingly uncertain future, the massed vocals and biting riffs hurtling past like the flying detritus of a demonstration turned violent. The febrile atmosphere continues into Mud, Blood & Gold, a sub-two-minute punk rush that sees the vocals formed into a solid wedge that assaults the listener from the centre of the mix. Changing things up, the folk-infused Devil in Disguise is a sing-a-long that sounds like The Pogues lit up on illicit fags and cheap lager, a vibe that shoots straight through into New American. A brief sample of storm clouds gathering sees the band shift focus once again, this time indulging the melodic punk of The Bloody & Violent History, a lyrically dark track with an addictive chorus that is soon swept away by the unstoppable rush of Don’t Make Me Do It, a track so vital it is dispatched in less than a minute.
With the album already a third of the way through, It’s A Road to Righteousness is a longer track with a sneering edge and strong guitar work. The shorter Live Forever is a bruising, simplistic number with great vocals, that sees the band mangling vowels in unison, while the band’s strong grasp of melody is to the fore onDrop Dead Inn, a gritty tale of desperation that sees its protagonist seeking company in the face of their own late-night demons. Prisoners Song is the last track that manages to scrape its way over two minutes, and it’s another one that showcases the band’s innate ability to craft songs that are as energetic as they are engaging.
The final third of the album is a sonic blitzkrieg, with songs averaging just over 90 seconds in length. It kicks off with Magnificent Rogue, a track that has both a title and a helter-skelter riff worthy of The Clash. It’s followed by the bouncy One Way Ticket, a track that primarily serves to remind what a fantastic bassist Matt freeman is, although it’s worth sticking around for the oh-so-catchy chorus. The blistering Hellbound Train is a breathless downhill plunge, cut ruthlessly short rather than outstay its welcome, while Eddie The Butcher is a relentless singalong for the terminally disaffected. Rendered all the faster by abrupt ending of its predecessor, Hear Us Out is a punk rock cri-de-coeur that paves the way for the aptly-titled finale, When The Smoke Clears, which brings this short, sharp album to its end.
With a laser-like focus on quality control, Tomorrow Never Comes is a short sharp shock of an album that never allows any idea to hang around long enough to outstay its welcome. Across its sub-half-hour run time, there’s some great musicianship and some brilliantly catchy melodies – both unsung elements of Rancid’s appeal – both of which ensure the record a favourable place in Rancid’s impressive canon. Whether a snaggle toothed veteran or a fresh-faced newcomer, Tomorrow Never Comes is a brilliantly-realised album that manages to cram the band’s appeal into just under thirty little minutes and it comes highly recommended. 8.5/10
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