Ethereal Metal

Ryan Murray | Co-Owner | Chief Editor | Contributor | Photographer

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There is something immediately familiar about Part 1: Funeral Songs, but it doesn’t feel like a band simply looking backward. Instead, Theory of a Deadman sound like they have remembered exactly what made people fall in love with them in the first place—and decided to have some fun with it again.

Their ninth offering and first canonical EP, Part 1: Funeral Songs is the opening chapter of a two-part release that finds Theory reconnecting with the grittier, louder, more irreverent side of their identity. After years of evolving their sound, the Canadian rockers have arrived at a place where they seem less concerned with chasing where rock is going and more interested in making the kind of songs they genuinely want to play.

And thankfully, that means fun.

The opening moments of Barricade make the intention pretty damn clear. Voices chanting “break down the barricade” give way to a wall of guitars and drums before Tyler Connolly delivers a hook that feels almost engineered for a packed room to scream back at the stage. The song uses the idea of a barricade as a metaphor for a one-sided relationship, but there is another layer to it that makes it particularly fitting for Theory: night after night, the band literally stares across a barricade at their audience.

Having received the EP ahead of its release, Barricade immediately struck me as a song that was going to translate exceptionally well live. That impression was confirmed in Poughkeepsie, NY when Theory performed it for one of the first times in front of an audience. The studio recording has the hook, the attitude and the swagger; live, it suddenly becomes communal. It sounds like it belongs to a room full of people shouting it back at the band.

That same energy runs throughout Part 1: Funeral Songs, but Theory wisely doesn’t try to make every song hit in exactly the same way.

The title track is an especially good example. Funeral Song opens with an almost deceptively traditional funeral organ before an urgent drumbeat kicks the door down. What follows is upbeat, punky and ridiculously infectious—a song with the musical equivalent of a grin on its face. There is a certain irreverence to Theory’s best material, and this is the band leaning directly into it.

Then comes Winnebago (Lay Low), which may be the EP’s biggest earworm. Built around a wonderfully goofy premise—being old enough to realize that staying home sounds considerably better than going out drinking—the song blends punk attitude with a distinctly country-rock flavor. The chorus practically begs to be yelled at full volume, and its central sentiment is almost universally relatable: sometimes the best party is the one you don’t attend.

When Theory debuted Winnebago (Lay Low)” alongside Barricade and I heard them live while covering them in Poughkeepsie NY, it became another reminder that these aren’t songs designed merely to sound good through headphones. They are built for interaction. They invite movement, shouting, laughter and the kind of crowd participation that has always been one of Theory’s greatest strengths.

But Part 1: Funeral Songs isn’t all attitude and punchlines.

Deep End brings the EP into more familiar rock ballad territory, but Theory don’t treat it like a necessary slowdown. Instead, the song grows into a massive, anthemic chorus that feels tailor-made for thousands of voices. There is a sincerity underneath the band’s sarcasm and swagger that can sometimes get overlooked, and Deep End puts that side of Theory front and center.

Then they turn the volume—and the sarcasm—right back up.

Monster Truck is a riff-heavy blast of social commentary delivered with enough absurdity to keep it firmly in Theory territory. It feels amplified in every possible sense, taking aim at the current state of the world without pretending that every observation needs to be delivered with a straight face. “My ears are ringing from the sound of America!” is the kind of line that manages to be ridiculous, pointed and completely memorable all at once.

Prenup closes the EP with another infectious melody and the kind of tongue-in-cheek attitude that feels like a direct connection to the Theory of a Deadman many longtime fans remember from the early 2010s. There is an obvious wink behind the song’s premise, but the songwriting never gets buried beneath the joke. It’s catchy first, sarcastic second—and that is precisely why it works.

That balance may ultimately be the greatest strength of Part 1: Funeral Songs. Theory of a Deadman aren’t pretending they haven’t evolved. They have. But after years of experimenting with different shades of alternative rock, they have found themselves drawn back toward the elements that made their music so immediately recognizable: big riffs, huge choruses, dark humor, unapologetic rock attitude and songs that don’t take themselves too seriously.

Connolly described the project as a “resurrection of the old sound,” and that description fits—but resurrection doesn’t necessarily mean going backward. What Theory have brought back is the spirit of those earlier records. These songs sound like a band remembering that rock music is supposed to be fun.

And that feeling carries an added weight when you hear the songs in a live environment. Barricade and Winnebago (Lay Low) didn’t need to be forced into Theory’s existing set; they immediately felt at home there. Hearing them make their live debuts reinforced something the EP had already made clear: Theory are writing for the audience again, not just around it.

That makes Part 1: Funeral Songs an unusually promising first chapter. It doesn’t feel overstuffed, overproduced or burdened by the expectations that come with being a band nearly a quarter-century into its career. It feels loose. It feels loud. It feels like Theory of a Deadman remembered why they wanted to make these songs in the first place.

And if this is only the first half of the story, the second chapter suddenly has a lot to live up to.

For now, though, Part 1: Funeral Songs is exactly what its creators seem to have intended: six songs made to be turned up loud, sung along to, laughed at, and played with the windows down.

Theory of a Deadman are having fun again.

You can hear it.