Album Review: "Three Years" by Running Shoes
Running Shoes’ 2015 release, Three Years, is an emo-rock gem that captures the raw energy and emotional depth characteristic of its genre. Released under Fawning Records in the US, this album isn’t just another collection of songs—it’s a journey through introspection, frustration, and fleeting moments of triumph. The band manages to blend classic emo sensibilities with a modern rock edge, making it both nostalgic and refreshingly current.
The tracklist reads like a diary of scattered thoughts and vivid imagery, but two songs stand out as unforgettable anchors: "Ace Ventura: Get Perspective" and "Thunder Lake."
"Ace Ventura: Get Perspective" hits hard right from the opening riff. It’s chaotic yet calculated, much like the feeling of trying to make sense of life when everything seems upside down. The lyrics are cryptic enough to feel personal but relatable enough to resonate—like overhearing someone else's inner monologue and nodding along without realizing it. What sticks with me most is how the chorus explodes into this cathartic cry; you can almost picture the crowd screaming back at a live show. There’s something oddly comforting about music that feels so unapologetically messy.
Then there’s "Thunder Lake," which slows things down just enough to let the weight of the album settle in. This one lingers because of its haunting melody and the way the vocals seem to crack under pressure, as if they’re carrying more than they can handle. It’s not flashy or overproduced—it doesn’t need to be. Instead, it builds steadily, layering guitars and soft percussion until it crescendos into what feels like a quiet surrender. Tracks like this remind you why emo was (and still is) such a powerful outlet for bottled-up emotions.
Other tracks, like "Jungles Don't Win Lanes" and "Die In The Game," bring their own flavor to the mix, but these don’t quite leave the same lasting impression. They’re solid, sure, but lack that extra punch or vulnerability that makes the standout tracks unforgettable.
What strikes me most about Three Years is how unpolished it feels—not in a bad way, but in a way that makes it real. You get the sense that Running Shoes didn’t set out to create a perfect record. They wanted to tell stories, maybe even work through some of their own baggage, and let listeners come along for the ride. And honestly? That’s kinda beautiful.
So here’s the unexpected part: listening to this album feels like finding an old shoebox filled with letters you wrote to yourself years ago. Some bits make you cringe, others hit too close to home, and a few make you smile despite yourself. If that’s not worth a listen, I don’t know what is.
