There’s something about the title of Oshkosh, WI-based Redshift Headlights’ newest album that seems so piercing to read. It’s that type of thing that makes me confess I’m not still around. It’s a phrase that calls to mind not only personal migratory patterns but the larger shifts in the zeitgeist and the way people come together and fall away. It’s a title that calls to mind Oshkosh itself, a town where few people are lifers and where the college populace is in constant rotation. Even within the confines of the record’s title, there’s an escapable sense of the passage of time.

Redshift Headlights has in their own way resurfaced like the double-brood of cicadas this year, from an almost-six-year gap since OSHKOSH. While there was 2020’s People! album, it was definitely a COVID effort (for better and for worse), and it really didn’t hit me as hard, nor did it really have the opportunity to get as much hype. So, If You Are Still Around feels more on par with the band’s best efforts thus far, albeit with a couple changes.

First off, where some of the band’s earliest works were adorned with orchestral arrangements and chamber pop instrumentation, the band itself has simplified a bit and the sound has shifted more heavily toward the punk and alternative side. Principle songwriter Stephen McCabe has stepped back to allow this to be a truly collaborative effort, and this ultimately results in an album that is less conceptual (McCabe teaches college English) and instead is a blitzkrieg of raucous tracks that balance their lyrical weight with their frenetic personalities. This time around, Dean Hoffman continues his duties on bass, while also adding in his fair share of vocals. Jay Spanbauer has landed firmly in his role as a guitarist, Justin Mitchell continues his spot on keys, and Chris Sasman has taken over on drums and percussion. The most notable absence is Melissa Freeman who played trumpet and vibraphone. All in all, the “new” lineup is pretty familiar in all actuality, and things have been condensed a bit in terms of moving parts.

The album kicks off with “Summertime,” a track which feels appropriate given the album’s release date. It’s a song that feels characteristic of McCabe, balancing some psychedelic and surfy tones with more progressive rhythmic elements. It’s a surprise when Hoffman is the first one to sing on the record, a choice that really points toward the record being a collaborative effort. However, McCabe quickly joins in with his call to “start a band.” The track explores buying a used guitar and learning it over the summer, something that definitely seems nostalgic for musical veterans such as these.

“Suddenly I Can’t Fly” is a more raw number, augmented by McCabe’s unmistakable voice. There’s a certain roughness to his timbre, a certain tired rage that doesn’t seem similar to any other bands I listen to. The rhythm section definitely kicks in on this song, and while there aren’t any particularly crazy riffs on the melodic side, the end result is a sort of Dinosaur Jr. type emo romp which makes it a strong early album track.

“Love Monsters” is definitely an instant favorite for me. It’s strategically messy, and McCabe’s vocal cadence meanders a bit in an almost talk-singing way like shown on previous tracks like “Al Eide is a Preacher.” Hoffman’s vocals really click, and I’m always a fan of the more prominent piano moments as well on RSH songs. There’s a nice instrumental build that could be best described as “spooky” and reminds me a lot of some of my favorite post-hardcore records. McCabe closes the track basically shouting the lyrics, a nice juxtaposition against his typical relaxed approach.

“Camera in Every Hole” is another personal highlight. It’s one of the most dynamic songs, with instruments subtly taking turns in the spotlight. Bass and drums are particularly tight here, but there’s a fair bit of synth and the guitars are punchy. It might be the heaviest RSH song to date in terms of overall composition, and I’m here for it.

Hoffman takes lead on “Space Invaders,” a track which seems to be about the conversation around immigration. It’s not atypical for some manner of politics to make it onto RSH songs, and there’s definitely some social commentary here – though it’s certainly not delivered in a beat-you-over-the-head manner. As a whole, it’s a pretty catchy track, even if it’s perhaps one of the more repetitive numbers when it comes to lyrical parts.

As the album rounds the bend of its runtime, “This Feeling All the Time” serves as a late-album energy boost: the start is a bit sleepy and psychedelic in an artful kind of way, but all of this explodes to a big end and some minor key synth riffing before leading into the title track.

Interestingly enough, the title track was the only song released prior to the record. There’s a bit of Fugazi-meets-Bloc Party vibe going on, making it one of my favorite songs. Both vocalists have a good split split of responsibilities, and the shift from the more dissonant verses to a more commercial chorus is beautiful. The whole band is on display as the lyrics come full circle and McCabe asks to “start a band if you are around still.” I mentioned earlier that this is not really a conceptual or thematic album, but there’s still a thread uniting the songs – the fact McCabe has had some of the same collaborators for years is on display with these lyrics. Then there’s the Salon, the venue where much of the album was workshopped by the band themselves. Time, place, and people all coalesce on this record.

Undeniably, RSH have changed things up this time around. Instead of intricate storytelling, there’s a mix of personal anecdotes and powerful metaphors. Delicate, orchestral passages and folk-like ballads are replaced by looming instrumental jam segments. Hoffman’s vocals, while admittedly a surprise at first, do serve as a nice contrast to McCabe’s baritone and help the album feel varied. This is, quite plainly, a rock album. That’s not a surprise given the history of the band members, but it’s perhaps the first time it has been fleshed out quite so plainly under this moniker. OSHKOSH will always hold a special place in my heart with “We’re Electric” and “These Are Your Best Days”, but the pieces of them I enjoyed the most – the instrumental builds and screamed ending lyrics – are certainly in no short supply this time around.

There is something youthful and carefree about the record – the simpler instrumentation, the more straightforward lyrics, the reflection on starting a first band and then running into those same bandmates years later and starting a new band and picking up like no time has passed at all. Maybe not everyone sticks around for long, but this album is a celebration of lasting friendships – and this shines through on every side.

Buy the album and purchase merch on Bandcamp.