You Can Be My Wave

Converge is having an absolutely massive 2026. Back in February, the legendary band dropped Love Is Not Enough, an album widely lauded by critics and die-hards alike as a triumphant return to their core sound. As someone who isn't intimately familiar with their catalogue, I found that record to be very solid. I definitely understood why they are heralded as one of the most crucial acts in the hardcore and mathcore scenes. However, little did we know, the tracking sessions for that album wound up being so fruitful that the band had collected nearly two full records' worth of material. Before fans had the time to fully digest the first offering, Converge caught everyone off guard by announcing its sibling follow-up to be released just four months later. The resulting LP, Hum of Hurt, mirrors its predecessor: another ten blistering tracks clocking in at around thirty minutes. It's also of similar quality; not just avoiding the air of being B-sides or leftover scraps, but delivering material that is in some ways even stronger.

Much of that material can be found in the album's front half. This section feels notably riffier and dangerously chaotic, leaning heavily into the band's more mathcore tendencies. The record kicks off with Slip the Noose, an alarming, high-velocity opener that packs a staggering number of great ideas into a short window of time. The track has ping-ponging, angular guitar lines, anxiety-inducing semi-step chord climbs, and concussive crescendos that aggressively accent Jacob Bannon's wretched performances of the song's title. It Only Gets Worse, keeps the ball rolling with tight, start-stop passages, devastating hardcore fight riffs, and a rare guitar solo from Kurt Ballou that wails away in agony. The track's final moments sees the band beginning to unravel as these short freakouts, punctuated by jagged pull-off guitar licks and explosive drum blasts, interrupt the flow.

The chaos reaches a fever pitch on I Won't Let You Go, thanks in part to Ben Koller's killer drumming. Right from the jump, he initiates the track with lightning-fast rolls on the hi-hat before moving into an odd timed groove that sees him spending more time in 'drum fill' mode rather than providing a standard beat. When he does settle into a driving hardcore punk groove, it is still every bit as impressive. There's something in Koller's speed and precision, specifically when it comes to the batting on the ride cymbal, that generates such a propulsive energy that is a joy to listen to. Over top of this rhythmic storm, guitarist Kurt Ballou does everything in his power to engineer a lively, beautiful mess. He aggressively strums above the nut to coax out a brittle, metallic chime, lets untamed feedback ring out at every possible moment, and will perform scratchy, dead strums just to make the guitar heard without necessarily having anything to say.

Ballou's feedback toward the end of the track transitions smoothly into my personal favorite on the record, It's Not Up to Us, namely for its two contrasting sides. One side is a frenetic blast built around a deceptively simple tapped guitar riff, where the tail end of each phrase undergoes some insane pitch fluctuations. I'm not sure if Ballou is abusing a whammy bar or using an effect that applies a tweezing stutter, but whatever it is, it sounds awesome. The opposite side is a cavernous section that meditates on a steady tom groove, while a beguiling set of notes rings out from Ballou's guitar alongside eerie, tuned percussion.

After this fantastic stretch of tunes, Hum of Hurt shifts gears towards a much slower, heavier, and doom-laden path. While I typically have a soft spot for this oppressively dark style, the execution on the back half leaves the album feeling structurally lopsided. The transition begins with the slow-burn, Dream Debris, which admirably carries over the ominous, haunting vibes of the previous track and sets them against a backdrop of tribal drums. Although, the conclusion to this track doesn't quite reach the crushing payoff required to justify its long six-minute length. From there, the band moves into what functions as a skeletal interlude track, a solo guitar piece that features these dramatic slides and is treated with a hair-raising double-octave effect. Roomy, ambient percussion eventually joins the mix, but on an album that is already quite brief, dedicating two and a half minutes to a bare-bones idea doesn't feel like the best use of time.

The final two-punch delivery of the title track and Nothing Is Over are both decent, heavy songs, but their core guitar riffs simply lack the excitement, attitude, and standout identity found in the album's first half. If you want a better representation of the band's sludgy, slower side, you have to look back at the aptly titled Doom in Bloom. It has the hellish riffs and while intangible, you can sense a bit of that rock 'n' roll swagger that turns a regular performance into something magical.

When compared to its counterpart, I think Hum of Hurt reaches much higher peaks. Yet with the slower back end, it doesn't feel as consistent. As a result, I see these two albums on fairly equal footing. After hearing two very solid projects this year from Converge, I'm starting to feel like it's even more necessary to go back and listen to the band's more iconic records. Of course, there's a possibility that Converge will treat us to a third record in 2026. There's still lots of time left.