Atlantis by Tour De Fours: A Raw, Unfiltered Dive into 2006’s Alt-Rock Scene
Alright, let’s get this straight—Atlantis isn’t your polished, radio-friendly pop-rock album. Nope. This sucker punches you in the gut with its gritty alternative rock vibes and doesn’t apologize for it. Released in 2006 outta Canada on Totally Square Records, Tour De Fours delivers a record that’s equal parts raw energy and moody introspection. And yeah, it sticks to your brain like gum under a table.
Let’s talk tracks because not everything here is gold—but some cuts? Damn near unforgettable. Take “The Great Fire” for starters. It kicks off like a freight train derailed, all jagged guitar riffs and pounding drums. The vocals are snarling, pissed-off poetry, spitting lines that feel like they were ripped straight from someone’s diary. You can practically smell the smoke rising off this one—it’s chaotic as hell but weirdly magnetic. That chorus? Stuck in my head for days. Not ‘cause it’s catchy (it kinda is), but because it’s relentless. Like being chased by wolves through a forest at night.
Then there’s “Bend Of A Thousand Angles.” Who even comes up with a title like that? Sounds like something an overzealous Dungeons & Dragons player would name their character. But man, this track hits different. It starts slow, almost dreamy, then slams into this monstrous wall of sound halfway through. Feels like falling off a cliff mid-song. The lyrics are cryptic as hell—"a thousand angles bending light"—what does that even mean? Doesn’t matter though; it works. By the time the distortion fades out, you’re left breathless, wondering what just happened.
Now, don’t get me wrong—not every song lands perfectly. Tracks like “Land Lover” and “Sheep’s Clothing” feel a bit too safe compared to the rest of the chaos. They’re not bad, just... forgettable. Kinda like ordering a burger and getting fries that taste like cardboard. Still edible, but not why you came.
What makes Atlantis stand out is how unapologetically messy it is. There’s no attempt to smooth over the rough edges or cater to mainstream tastes. Instead, Tour De Fours throws everything against the wall to see what sticks—and honestly? Most of it does.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to this album feels like finding an old mixtape in your junk drawer. You remember how much you loved it back then, but now it’s got scratches and skips. Imperfect, sure, but still full of heart. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to it. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for Canadian bands trying way too hard. Either way, Atlantis ain’t perfect—but damn if it doesn’t leave a mark.
Final thought? If you’re looking for something clean and predictable, skip this. But if you wanna hear rock done dirty, loud, and alive, crank this baby up. Just don’t blame me when your neighbors start complaining.
