Looking Back: Ten Years of 'The Next Four Years'
In retrospect, United Nations’ musical output was often playing second fiddle to the spectacle of their existence. From early promotional photos sporting rubber Reagan masks, to having their first record literally destroyed en-masse by Hot Topic employees due to its cover depicting the Beatles burning on Abbey Road, and most famously being sued by the actual fucking United Nations, the “supergroup” created a niche and powerful blend of grinding hardcore punk that never seemed to be able to keep them out of their own shadow.
While the purposeful obscurity of their members and motives leaves more questions than answers; here’s what we know for sure: Geoff Rickly (of Thursday fame) and a handful of Brooklyn based musicians who (allegedly) spent time in a myriad of bands (including Glassjaw and Converge) decided to get back to their roots as the mainstream boom in post-hardcore music began to dwindle out in the mid to late 00’s. United Nations publicly emerged via Myspace in 2008 sporting matching black tees and rubber masks of the second worst president in American history. Their self-titled debut was loaded with tongue-in-cheek references to hardcore of years past and paid sonic homage to the bands that had cut their teeth in (but mostly never broken out of) the scene that Rickly used to bolster in his New Brunswick, N.J. basement. Blast beats, screeching dissonant high notes, and distinct polyp-inducing screams all mixed tightly to bring some classic punk aggression to the Fuse TV generation, but the controversy around their name and the outrageously provocative cover art left far too little attention to be given to the musical component of the LP.
They regrouped in 2010 to deliver the stellar Never Mind the Bombings, Here’s Your Six Figures EP. Bolstered by the eye catching yellow cover paying homage (or rip-off) to the classic Sex Pistols album, the perfectly crisp production and completely mind-blowing drum performance of this EP lifted UN to heights that the “screamo” arm of the genre hadn’t seen since the end of many of its seminal second wave bands in the early 00’s. Then the largest political organization in the world decided to sue the band and Rickly (the only legally identified member) in bad faith. Momentum from this controversy propelled the band into the production of The Next Four Years and they even plastered the cover of the record in copies of the cease and desist notice that the United Nations issued.
Up to speed? Great. While all of this legacy is necessary to understand the context of why this record is worth discussing a decade later, we should move forward without weighing down the music in the mire of controversy and fable. Did they really enlist Kristen Schaal to write lyrics? Irrelevant. Which of the handful of drumming gods associated with the act actually tracked which songs? I mean, I want to know this one but we can move forward without that information. Maybe the rumors surrounding the band are best left unanswered.
Released in July 2014 via Temporary Residence Limited, The Next Four Years musically serves as a bleak reminder that the Obama era wasn’t the prosperous and hope-filled time that recent events have made it seem. Addiction ravaged the country and the post-collapse economy created the largest wealth stratification in history. The American queer community engaged in a still ongoing battle for its very right to exist and the early throes of 24/7 internet connectivity beamed directly to your pocket reshaped the whole of humanity for the worse. Maybe that's why this record is so damn hard to listen to. I’m reminded that this excellently bleak and harsh album was born of the last time I can remember not constantly looking at a phone or engaging in the never ending doom of the news cycle. A time when I was still battling the deepest of my personal demons, when left the certainty of home for the first time, and when I truly hit my first in a series of rock bottoms.
From the audience-scathing lyrics of opener “Serious Business” to the self-referential political commentary of “Revolutions at Varying Speeds”, Rickly (if he did write these lyrics) presents a version of himself that isn’t present in his day job. Several songs seem to ponder the existential crisis of God and the universe. “False Flags” paints a brief picture of Rickly’s now-well-documented struggle with addiction. When you add the context of things to come (the Collect Records debacle and contents of his semi-autobiographical novel Someone Who Isn’t Me in particular) it becomes clear that Geoff was not doing anything close to his best at this time. The totality of the lyrics on the album are a dash of sarcasm, a pinch of political outrage, and several big spoons of resigned existential dread. His vocals sit lower in the mix than on previous records which boosts the record by giving it the feeling of seeing the band in a crowded basement while the shitty PA fights to get the vocals to an audible level. His hair-raising scream dominates the album but the occasional melodic yelling does enough to welcome those who may be coming to UN through Thursday’s more accessible sensibilities.
The guitars are muddier than the preceding EP but still attack with a wall of sound. There’s an open-tuned heaviness to the blistering pace of “Fuck the Future” before reaching its climax with start/stop jerkiness. Though less dissonant than previous releases, the band’s signature lead guitar work cuts through the wall-of-sound mix. When a truly melodic moment breaks through, like on “Stole the Past” or the post-rock informed tremolo picking and delay heavy bridge of “F#A#$”, the band truly soars to the high point of their output. Whichever drummer laid this down (rumored to be David Haik of Pianos Become the Teeth) they were indisputably on fire. The blasts of aggression are executed so perfectly that there isn’t a second of sloppiness to be found despite the breakneck speed of the tracks. More than this, there are thoughtful and complex patterns to be found amidst the rapid fire blasts that make listening to this record more rewarding than some of its forebears.
In 2017 the band released their last track to date, the cleverly named “Stairway to Mar-a-lago”, which shocked their fans by featuring a primary vocalist that almost certainly wasn’t Rickly and still publicly remains a mystery. The world devolved into chaos during and after the Trump administration with United Nations nowhere to be seen. Internet platforms like TikTok and Instagram continue to bring a slew of new young people into the world of hardcore and emo. There was once a time when you would hear a band’s name or see a t-shirt and have no clue what they sounded like; and in that time I personally heard whispers of names like Reversal of Man or Orchid and knew that somehow they had inspired and uplifted my gateway bands (Thursday and the Blood Brothers specifically) to continue the legacy. It has never been easier to hear and create new music and there’s never been a time with more things to scream about. As 2024 dwindles with the promise of another bleak and frustration filled Trump administration, I’m left to hope more young people can hear United Nations and that maybe this band will create at least a bit more new music.