Tony Molina Paints In the Fade with Every Color on His Palette

In the Fade’s foremost Ovens throwbacks are paired at the center of the album: “Song for Friends (Slight Return)” updates “Headache” (and references “Your ego will grow,” both) from Ovens’ self-titled 2009 compilation album, while “Ovens Theme Pt. 4” continues a series of instrumental interludes that began on Ovens (2009) and continued on … also Ovens (the band’s 2011 EP). The songs share a soft touch, as if Molina is observing that he hasn’t outgrown these sounds, per se—they’ve been part of his sonic DNA for over a decade, and will continue to be. “Song for Friends” is immersive where the Ovens version was DIY-threadbare, opening on “Strawberry Fields Forever”-esque mellotron and electric guitar (also reminiscent of Confront the Truth’s “I Don’t Want to Know” and “Hung Up on the Dream”), then swelling with acoustic guitar and organ as Molina mourns faltering friendships; the latest “Ovens Theme” is equally Beatles-y, though it’s only a 30-second acoustic interlude. There’s a wistful gratitude to these tracks, like Molina’s way of reconnecting with those friends he thought he’d left behind.

But of course, In the Fade is much more than a nostalgia trip—it’s also a cross-pollination of Molina’s go-to sounds, to an extent that hasn’t been seen since the Ovens era. Take “All I’ve Known,” a standout from the album’s back half: Molina sings about feeling resigned to the sidelines over max-gain power-chord crunch and upbeat drums, bemoaning, “Humiliation’s all I’ve known / For so long,” before transitioning into a guitar break that’s equal parts Blue Album and Bad Reputation. But two-thirds of the way in—where Molina ends this song, in most conceivable universes—he instead swerves into a delicate stretch of baroque acoustic guitar, as if wordlessly accepting the indignities his narrator had lamented. “Not Worth Knowing” and “Leave This Town” make similar moves: The former incorporates a piano bridge before returning to its chorus, a Molina rarity, while the latter feigns an ending, only to follow its blasts of deafening distortion with a gentle, dual-acoustic outro. These songs exemplify Molina’s willingness to push In the Fade beyond the stylistic tunnel vision of his past solo albums, de-compartmentalizing the disparate facets of his sound. It’s “all of the above” in album form.

“All I’ve Known” also signals another shift in Molina’s songwriting: Where Kill the Lights found him heartbroken and adrift (“When she leaves me / Where am I to go?”), In the Fade’s lyricism shows signs of resolve and acceptance, like the growth that accompanies pain. Molina’s narrator is decisive and unflinching from the album’s opening couplet, “I’m leaving you girl for the last time / Don’t expect you to understand,” and on “Fuck Off Now,” he outright throws down a gauntlet, demanding (with echoes of Ovens’ “Drunk shit” melody), “Explain the lies you tell or fuck off now,” over some of the album’s most incandescent, heating-coil guitars.

The album’s cheeriest track (which is also its “most indie pop-sounding,” as Molina accurately notes) sidesteps trouble, rather than confronting it: “After all your problems and you’ve still got them / Still today / Leave behind your worries in the fade,” he croons over acoustic strums and banging piano. But on the pivotal one-two punch of “Four Sided Cell” and “Years Ago Pt. 2,” Molina reckons directly with isolation, loneliness and helplessness, which culminates in an epiphany: “Come to find out nothing’s up to me.” If you’ve been paying close attention to Molina’s music, this line lands like a knockout blow—there’s a wisdom in it that justifies all the heartache that came before, like misery turned a corner and found itself on the doorstep of deliverance.

Knowing where the record’s arc ends up, In the Fade’s classically Molina crowd-pleasers are all the more warmly rewarding. Lead single and proper (post-intro) album opener “The Last Time” is 84 unfuckwithable seconds of power-pop fuzz, hyper-economic lyricism and irresistible guitar-monies—a true “tempest in a teacup” of a tune. Tambourines punctuate Teenage Fanclub jangle on “Not Worth Knowing,” with a mellotron countermelody set against Molina’s vocal, and a deceptively dynamic collision of sustained organ and staccato piano—a bassline straight from “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” tops it all off, just shy the two-minute mark.

“Leave This Town” starts out sparse, then explodes, its buzzing guitar chords all the more satisfying for their gradual ramp-up, as well as the ideal complement to Molina’s pop-punk-tinged singing and lyrics. “All I’ve Known” is one of the album’s most undeniable melodies, while “Don’t Be Far” finds Molina in “Michelle” mode, with his The Lost Days bandmate Sarah Rose Janko’s (Dawn Riding) backing vocals—the first to appear on a Molina solo album—reinforcing the song’s longing lyricism. And though lovers of electric fuzz may find that In the Fade follows Kill the Lights too closely by giving more space to acoustic quiet—as presaged, also, by Molina and Janko’s 2021 Lost Days EP, Lost Demos—the record is expertly sequenced so you never spend long in either style’s absence.

Molina’s art, like any, is an effort to be understood. That’s why he won’t abide his music being stuffed into an ill-fitting narrative: That gives you an incomplete picture, lying by omission. In the Fade is Molina’s entire truth, and he knows that if you’ve come this far with him, or are this late to the party, you’ll want to hear it all, even if it takes a few more minutes than usual. In the Fade—and whatever comes next—is nothing if not worth your time.

Scott Russell is Paste’s music editor and he’ll come up with something clever later. He’s on Twitter, if you’re into tweets: @pscottrussell.