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Review summary: An emotional compilation of the best Crywank has to offer, Fist Me ’till Your Hand Comes Out My Mouth is the perfect display of the progress that the band has made in the last decade and a touching expression of their deepest insecurities.

Fist Me ‘til Your Hand Comes Out My Mouth is Crywank’s final album, and will be released on May 1st. It’s name is inspired by a scene from the 1989 horror film Society, as confirmed by lead singer James Clayton on Twitter. The movie is about an ordinary teenage boy who learns that his family is part of a gruesome orgy cult for the social elite—which seems like a strange plot to be inspired by, until one listens to the album.

The first 8 songs are I Love You But I’ve Chosen Me, split up into 8 different parts—it was originally a single, an 18-minute long song—in which the band explores its reasons for breaking up, with both James and drummer Dan Watson taking turns singing. With lyrics like “We want to sing songs like Wicker Man, but instead we just bicker, man” and “This band is a pathogen, it’s damaging the program in my brain”, the two provide the fans with a clear explanation for breaking up, after which they move on to the second part of the album.
The Best serves as an intermission, and it does an incredible job in standing out—it’s fast-paced and chaotic, unlike the songs before it. It is followed by Flower In Hand, a song that pays homage to Crywank’s punk-rock roots, dripping with rage and talk of privilege. The album already begins to take a turn, with songs growing more and more varied in sound—slowly, we begin to feel like we are on a rollercoaster with a blindfold on.

The Yolk That Fell Out is playful and a bit absurd, showing us a sneak peek of what’s to come. Then, suddenly, we’re whisked off (no pun intended). Imitating a Brief Protejion of Gurdjieff is worlds away from the songs before it, and we are taken from a playful jig about yolk falling out to an atmospheric and haunting instrumental that resembles Lovecraftian-inspired music. Interestingly enough, the moaning that follows in Ungrateful Son could even be interpreted as cultists chanting. Nevertheless, it keeps up the trance-like state of the track before it, and Yuppie Gloup wraps it all up with a rhythmic chant that could also be interpreted to be a rap.

We return to normality with Ego is a Phoenix, which sounds much more cheerful and is reminiscent of Crywank’s signature anti-folk vibe. If Imitating a Brief Protejion of Gurdjieff was a dramatic dive on the rollercoaster, Ego is a Phoenix is an abrupt climb at breakneck speeds, slowed down by Poo, which, really, is exactly what you’d expect it to be about. Likewise, Corduroy is a similarly playful track, sung entirely by Dan. The band promised the album would feature their most mature and most immature songs, and they certainly delivered.
Life in the Chalk Basket is another instrumental track, which prepares us for the next dive—Wellington Wisp (both parts 1 and 2) is tense and seems to vibrate with suspense, doing a better job at building atmosphere than most modern horror movies.
The two are followed by one of the strongest songs on the album, Boosep. Here, Dan’s vocals truly shine through, backed up by an entrancing instrumental. It is followed by a few experimental tracks (A Fart At Night Resets the Balance and Egg and Spoon are much more electronic than what we are used to from Crywank), but the final two songs—Cringey Wincer and Deep Down I’m Really Mark Smith bring it all home, wrapping up the album on an intro- and retrospective tone. In Deep Down I’m Really Mark Smith, James reflects on where he is now, but still wrestles with self doubt and a nostalgia for the past. It sounds a lot like something you would hear on Tomorrow Is Nearly Yesterday and Everyday Is Stupid, and its lyrics are similarly in tune (“I wanna be cool and effortless but every little thing requires so much effort”).

After slowly winding down, he inhales, and we are given the classic Crywank yelling-over-guitar-strums that we all love—for the last time, as this is the very last track on the album and the very last track from this band. The album ends with James pondering whether the listener is bad for relating to his affirmations of selfishness, but switching it up and shifting the blame on himself for making the listener relate. Considering whether he glorifies or he is glorifying being sad, he suggests thar the listener should just turn off—and it’s all over.
Fist Me ‘till Your Hand Comes Out My Mouth is a very rich and diverse album, its tracks shifting from playful to eerie to wistful, ranging in different genres and styles. It is a compilation of Crywank at its best and at its very core. Diehard fans will surely enjoy it, and—as with all other Crywank albums—newcomers will either love it with their entire being or detest it.
James ponders some rather philosophical subjects throughout this album, and the final track is perhaps the clearest that these questions are presented to us; he considers what the real goal (of being a musician maybe, though the question is too vague to properly figure it out) is, and wonders whether it’s to touch people with experiences tinged in fiction or to share ideas and beliefs he holds no particular convictions to. He considers his own self loathing, rejecting the idea of self love and instead admitting that some days he doesn’t think he hates himself enough. Amidst these problems, there are also the first 8 tracks, which outline the break-up of the band.

The album is raw and personal, with the band keeping nothing hidden, explaining, pondering and questioning, with vocals that range from whiny to wistful to resigned to cheery and everything in between. It is—like its title—an experience, much more refined than previous works but equally passionate, and leaves you wondering what is to come for both members of the band.

Article and photos by Matt Iudean