Tell Me Your Dream

Across two decades, the California-born hardcore outfit Ceremony has earned its standing as one of punk’s most adaptable and unflinching bands, always ready to meet the moment without surrendering its principles. True to form, Ceremony’s seventh album, Tell Me Your Dream pushes the group’s punk-forged intensity all the way to the fore, capturing the quintet at its most expressive, expansive, and timely. “We’re living in an era of mass uncertainty,” says Ceremony vocalist Ross Farrar. “In punk, I don’t see how you can’t respond. It’s taken over our lives in so many different ways – economically, politically, spiritually. We want people to wake up and get into what’s happening.” Ferociously alert, Tell Me Your Dream reunites Ceremony – Farrar, guitarist-keyboardist Anthony Anzaldo, guitarist Andy Nelson, bassist Justin Davis and drummer Jake Casarotti – with producer John Reis for ten songs of searing breadth. That means everything from bristling hardcore to moody post-punk – all while taking fundamental inspiration from Discharge, Crass, and other anarcho-punk troupes that first helped certain members of Ceremony find their own political voices back when they were teenagers. The result is a culmination of the band’s 21 years together, if not some kind of riddle: Ceremony knows how to make a return-to-form sound like evolution – and vice versa. Equally loud and clear is the fact that Ceremony isn’t hesitating to raise its voice at a moment when the underground has grown strangely quiet. “Why aren’t punk bands actually saying the word ‘Palestine’ on their records” asks Ceremony guitarist Andy Nelson. “We didn’t want to make anything that felt light, or empty, or apolitical. Our intent is to not waste anyone’s time, and to encourage people to think about what they settle for.” On Tell Me Your Dream, you’ll hear Palestine cited over the ferocious bounce of “Madness,” a post-punky indictment of war’s obscenity – and the obscene amounts of cash required to wage it. But if you listen closely, you may also hear Farrar working to reconcile issues of broadscale sociopolitical violence with his most intimate personal struggles. Within 30 minutes, Tell Me Your Dream revisits all previous eras of the greater Ceremony arc, with each track gaining intensity as it plays off the prior. The anarcho scorch marks of “Other Hells” give way to the deep-pocketed groove of the aforementioned “Madness,” followed by the jet-black jangle of “Dark Summer,” a post-punk rumination during which Farrar reminds us, “You only hit bottom when you stop digging.” Deep connections in a shallow world. A clear sense of purpose in uncertain times. These are the reasons Ceremony continues to grow, to expand, to adapt, to endure. This band can’t stop. And it won’t. To meet the moment, you have to be there for it.