It’s difficult to grow up as a punk band. For almost two decades, Joyce Manor has avoided any major missteps with a steady stream of consistently infectious, immediate albums. Beginning with their self-titled debut 15 years ago, the Barry Johnson-led pop-punkers have martialled their boundless kinetic energy into swift hooks and short song structures. Even when the band branches out, palm-muted guitar chords, jagged lyrics, and crowd-ready singalongs are as dependable for Joyce Manor as death and taxes. Longtime fans have seemingly warmed to 2016’s Cody, where the now-trio teamed with Elliot Smith producer Rob Schnapf in an attempt at maturity, and 2018’s Million Dollars to Kill Me, where they continued to tamp down their emo tendencies.
Taking pop-punk seriously in 2026 isn’t always easy, but Joyce Manor does a valiant job throughout I Used To Go To This Bar, even if they end up stuck in an awkward middle ground. Their trademarks are present: Johnson’s stable whine, nervous love songs, winding licks. But producer Brett Gurewitz, best known as the co-founder of both Bad Religion and Epitaph Records, pulls back some of the band’s brash, basement charm. The worst offender is “Well, Whatever It Was,” which evokes the Offspring with its acoustic guitar shuffle and Johnson’s slacker couplets, such as “Lost my job at Little Caesars.” On “All My Friends Are So Depressed,” Joyce Manor’s first charting single on Billboard, Gurewitz’s production renders the band’s country bounce toothless.
With I Used To Go To This Bar, it’s clear that Johnson has been thinking about death. His voice locates a new deflated strength as he sings about suffering friends, folks facing economic challenges, and lovers who have passed on. On the title-track, he considers a drinking buddy whose funeral he skipped before throwing himself back into the wrenching chorus (“Time goes by so slowly baby / I wish you were here”) at nearly 200 beats per minute. “Well, Don’t It Seem Like We’ve Been Here Before” kicks off with a sledgehammer hook and then broadens to reveal that Johnson is singing about a friend with a tube in his neck. Even though Johnson’s fragmented memories are devastating, the music remains light enough to avoid No Closer to Heaven or Home, Like Noplace Is There territory.
Johnson has always been more interested in pop music than punk or hardcore, something he underlined in a recent interview with The Line of Best Fit. I Used To Go To This Bar satisfies that pop instinct as much as possible. With the new wave synths on the tremendous “Falling Into It,” they pick up where 2022’s excellent 40 oz. to Fresno’s left off. “After All You Put Me Through” finds Johnson and co. locating a weirdly funky, bummed-out groove with hints of bongos and movie-ready strings. And with “I Know Where Mark Chen Lives,” Johnson sings about getting high with the former Summer Vacation frontperson, but the song really takes flight with that incisive hook of “Freight train coming down the track / And it almost gave me a heart attack” before diving into a bouncy, power-chord-heavy verse.
I Used To Go To This Bar splits the difference between the grown-up Joyce Manor and the sharp punk they’re known for, with an extra dose of existential panic. Johnson feels his age on “The Opposium,” as he notes that he felt like “a shadow of my former glory,” while the band chugs along on a rotating bassline and train beat. And on “Grey Guitar,” he wonders what happens when playing music doesn’t seem to fix anything. Over harmonized guitar riffs, Johnson imagines the potential different ways a long-lost friend has passed away. Previous albums have typically closed with barnburners or attempts at reassurance, but as we age, we all lose people along the way. Coming from Joyce Manor, “Grey Guitar” is impressive because it revels in that discomfort. [Epitaph]
Ethan Beck is a Pittsburgh-born, Brooklyn-based journalist and critic who has written for The Washington Post, Public Source, Los Angeles Times, and other publications.
