When Jon Wurster left Superchunk in 2023, it felt like the end of an era. His three-decade tenure had been central to the band’s chemistry, and few groups survive that kind of change intact. But instead of folding, Superchunk welcomed drummer Laura King, leaned into their scrappy instincts, and made Songs in the Key of Yikes, a record that doesn’t deny the darkness of the moment but delivers it with their sunniest sound in years.
Opener “Is It Making You Feel Something” sets the tone immediately. McCaughan rails against a culture of falseness with lines that sting, but the song is a buoyant anthem, propelled by sharp riffs and a chorus built for crowd sing-alongs. That paradox, grim themes wrapped in bright hooks, becomes the album’s guiding principle. “Bruised Lung” charges forward with ragged intensity, echoing the band’s punk roots while still keeping melody front and center. Its energy makes it one of the clearest statements that Superchunk hasn’t lost its edge. Then comes “No Hope,” which flips despair into defiance. McCaughan’s repeated chant of the title feels fatalistic at first, but by sheer force of delivery and the band’s rush of guitars, it transforms into a communal rallying cry.
The mood shifts with “Care Less,” a sly, garage-tinged rocker where Betsy Wright’s backing vocals add bite. Its sarcasm is cutting, but it still carries the band’s signature momentum. “Stuck in a Dream,” meanwhile, feels like a throwback to pogo-punk energy, a song that barrels forward with the infectious drive of Descendents-style pop punk, injecting levity into the record’s heavier subject matter. One of the most striking tracks is “Train on Fire.” Instead of barreling through, it leans into a Springsteen-esque stride, full of earnestness that’s tempered by grit. It shows the band’s range, offering a moment of uplift that avoids sentimentality.
Though its tracklist reads like a roll call of doom—“Everybody Dies,” “Climb the Walls”—the album doesn’t wallow. Instead, it thrives on the tension between bleak titles and radiant execution. That mix is what makes Superchunk’s music enduring: they don’t sugarcoat, but they don’t surrender either. Guests like Rosali Middleman and members of Quivers add texture, but it’s the core trio of McCaughan, Jim Wilbur, and Laura Ballance, with King now locked in behind them, that give the record its spark. They sound like a band reinvigorated, less concerned with proving relevance than with reaffirming what’s always made their records cathartic: energy, melody, and grit.
At under 40 minutes, Songs in the Key of Yikes doesn’t overstay its welcome. It’s sharp, resilient, and brimming with urgency, a reminder that even after three decades, Superchunk can still turn anxiety into anthems. In a world where hope feels slippery, persistence is enough, and Superchunk’s persistence sounds exhilarating.
