Color the Years by Boyd Shropshire: A Gritty Indie Rock Gem That Still Kicks Ass
Let’s cut the crap—Boyd Shropshire’s Color the Years isn’t your run-of-the-mill indie rock album. Released in 2010 under Wonderland Archives, this US-born record punches harder than most of its contemporaries. It's raw, unfiltered, and doesn’t give a damn about fitting into anyone’s playlist algorithm. If you’re looking for something polished and predictable, keep scrolling. But if gritty storytelling wrapped in killer riffs gets your blood pumping, stick around.
The opening track, “What Will I Be,” slaps you across the face right outta the gate. The lyrics are almost confrontational—like Shropshire is daring you to figure out your own messed-up future while he lays his bare on the table. The guitar work here feels like it’s clawing at your soul, sharp but melodic enough to make you hit repeat. You can hear the frustration, the longing, the sheer "what now?" vibe that makes it unforgettable. This ain’t background music; it demands your attention.
Then there’s “Breakfast for Dinner.” Yeah, weird title, but don’t let that fool ya. This one sticks with you because it’s chaotic as hell, yet somehow comforting. It’s like Shropshire took all those late-night existential crises we’ve had and turned them into three minutes of pure sonic chaos. The vocals sound like they were recorded in a garage—which, honestly, just adds to the charm. There’s no pretense here, just honest-to-god rock ‘n roll with an edge.
Tracks like “Stars That Lead Us” and “I’m Home” bring some balance, offering moments of introspection without losing their bite. And how could you ignore “Song Was in the Mirror (Instrumental)”? That track sneaks up on you—it’s haunting, cinematic, and leaves you wondering what the hell just happened. Like staring at yourself in the mirror after a bad breakup, it’s unsettling but kinda beautiful.
Shropshire closes things off with “Dream About the Day,” which feels like waking up from a fever dream. It’s not happy or sad—it’s somewhere in between, lingering in your head long after the final note fades.
So yeah, Color the Years might not be perfect, but who cares? Perfection is boring anyway. What this album does is remind us why indie rock mattered back then—and why it still should today. Raw emotion over slick production every time.
Final thought? Listening to this album feels like finding an old Polaroid photo you forgot existed. Faded, maybe torn at the edges, but packed with memories you didn’t know you needed. Fucked up? Maybe. Brilliant? Absolutely.
