Noah Symes
I first discovered Twenty One Pilots in 2013, when they were the little-known opener for Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco on the Save Rock and Roll Tour. I was 7, way too young to attend but old enough to listen to their album, “Vessel.” The record ended up being a staple in my childhood.
By the time “Blurryface” dropped in 2015, I was a bit older and, like a lot of pre-teens, the record hit like a revelation. The album was messy, emotional and genreless, like it understood me before I did. As my taste changed, I drifted away, skipping over “Trench” and “Scaled and Icy.”
Then came their 2024 album, “Clancy.” At 17 it resonated just like “Vessel” had. This was a turning point for both me and the band.
I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to listen to the band’s new album, “Breach,” a few days before the drop date at an early listening party at Hitt Records in downtown Columbia. The shop was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with mostly University of Missouri students and local teens, all there to reconnect with the band that we grew up with. The energy in the room was electric in a quiet, knowing way.
“Breach” is a complicated listen, not because it is lyrically inaccessible or musically jarring, but because it is an album that lives somewhere between nostalgia and reinvention, grappling with old roots and new directions.
From the opening track, “City Walls,” the album does not hold back. The heavy bass line and drawn-out structure set the tone for something big. There is the familiar “Regional At Best” style enunciation in the verses that almost feels outdated until it smoothly melts into a melodic hook. It is classic Twenty One Pilots: genreless, unpredictable and entirely them.
Sonically, “Breach” leans more alternative-indie than past records. The sound doesn’t always land, but the writing still does. The most intriguing tracks on “Breach” are the two singles, “The Contract” and “Drum Show.” They both stand out, but for opposite reasons. I loved “The Contract” the second I heard it. The song is dark, but not heavy; weird without being abrasive.
“The Contract” almost brushes up against a Nine Inch Nails vibe, but is more restrained and emotionally open. Unlike Nine Inch Nails, there is no forced discomfort – just tension that feels more carefully held. It is the kind of song that reminds me of being 12 and feeling like I was ahead of my time for loving music that didn’t fit neatly into a genre.
“Drum Show,” on the other hand, took longer to land for me. At first it felt like it was trying too hard to build the moment where drummer Josh Dun sings the bridge. It’s not that Dun can’t hold his own, he’s always been the rhythmic core of the band.But his vocal moments felt more like a setup than a payoff. Still, “Drum Show” found its footing in the final stretch. Singer Tyler Joseph’s scream towards the end is a highlight of the whole album. It’s the moment everything falls into place.
One of the album’s standout qualities is how it marries Twenty One Pilots’ wide-ranging influences. There are moments where it dives headfirst into the experimental shimmering synths with dark, almost cinematic lyrics. Other tracks feel stripped down and intimate, like echoes of “Vessel” or even their self-titled album, but warped through a modern lens. The piano makes a strong return in some songs, grounding the album emotionally. Yet, not everything sticks.
Lyrics like, “I feel like garbage,” from the fourth track, “Garbage,” feel jarringly simple in a discography known for layered metaphors and existential unpacking. But even then, the line “Would you move closer, if I grew quieter?” proves that the duo still knows how to hit you in the gut when it counts.
One of the most memorable tracks, “Robot Voices,” plays like a spiritual successor to Panic! At the Disco’s 2013 album, “Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die!” It unfortunately took fans around a decade to appreciate the romantic, strange and futuristic sound they were pushing for, I think that’s what is going to happen with “Robot Voices.”
The lyric, “I wasn’t looking for love this year / But my robot told me that I shouldn’t fear / When I met you, I found you safe and warm,” catches you off guard, then sits with you like only a Twenty One Pilots lyric can. It’s a different take on love: sweet, slightly detached and deeply human in its own alienated way.
The album’s most rap-centric track, “Center Mass,” pulls heavily from R&B, offering a vibe that’s chill but too forgettable, at least until the bridge. That’s where the scream kicks in, the drums go off, and you remember why you’re here.
I might be the only one, but I instantly connected the next track, “Cottonwood,” to their cover of My Chemical Romance’s “Cancer.” There is a haunting softness in “Cottonwood” that threatens to unravel you. The lyric, “No I don’t condemn you / You tore me up, more than you know,” is one of those deep cuts that sneaks up on you in a third or fourth listen.
The final track, “Intentions,” hints at closure. There is a reversed “Truce” sample that wraps things up in the most Twenty One Pilots way possible, circling back to a message that’s defined them for years: “Stay alive for me.” It’s a quiet and powerful nod to those who have been with them since the early days.
Even with all its significant moments, there is a lingering feeling that the album never went as dark as I expected, which is maybe its only real flaw.
“Breach” is not an album that listeners will immediately understand. Some songs will leave you cold on the first listen, but then break you open the second time around. It’s a project that feels like a collage of eras. What Twenty One Pilots has done with “Breach” is brave: they made an album that doesn’t chase trends, genres or expectations. It sounds like them, and honestly, that’s all fans have ever wanted.
Edited by Sabrina Pan | [email protected]
Copy edited by Violet Newton and Emma Harper | [email protected]
Edited by Alex Gribb | [email protected]