Iron Chic: "We can either kill each other or help each other"

Iron Chic have always been fond of pop culture references. Whether it’s a nod to college rockers the Gin Blossoms (‘True Miserable Experience’) or Ghostbusters (‘Bustin’ Makes Me Feel Good’), they possess the ability to bounce emotions and meaning through cultural touchstones. ‘You Can’t Stay Here’, the Long Island punk outfit’s third album is no exception. And it just might be their finest moment to date. It hasn’t been an easy ride to get here. In 2016, life in Iron Chic ground to a halt following the passing of founding guitarist Rob McAllister. With plans to produce an album that year, it’s taken the group 18 months to process their grief – much of which is worked through on ‘You Can’t Stay Here’. The result is an album that ruminates heavily on the issue of mortality, but is, ironically, the most life-affirming listen of the year. It ends with ‘To Shreds, You Say’, a line culled from Futurama. Here, Professor Farnsworth receives a telephone call. He picks up the receiver to be told about the death of an old friend: “Did he at least die painlessly?” asks the professor. “To shreds, you say? Tsk tsk tsk. How’s the wife holding up?” A pause. “To shreds, you say…” Like much of ‘You Can’t Stay Here’, it’s a song that meditates on the notion of mortality, yet it possesses that same irreverent, existential viewpoint with which Iron Chic are synonymous. Any doubts about the subject matter dispelled by the telling – and crushing – title. Writing the album was, understandably, a challenge. “It was hard,” acknowledges vocalist Jason Lubrano. “I also had some other personal things going on over the last year too, and that also informed the lyrical content of the record. But it was also cathartic in a way. “Some of the songs were written with Rob before he passed. It’s all really weird. In a way, we want to honour him, but at the same time, we want to let our feelings out. And that’s all going on at the same time.” Iron Chic have always excelled in these moments of opposition; the big, weighty, philosophical questions set to bouncy three-minute indie-punk anthems. This time, with the lyrics informed by events close to home, it has led to songs that question the meaning of life in a more pertinent and personal way compared to the abstract, cosmic nature of ‘The Constant One’ or ‘Not Like This’. That said, the focus remains very much on the big picture. After all, Lubrano is a man who can take an intangible concept, such as that of ‘Spooky Action at a Distance’ (ask your friendly neighbourhood quantum physicist) and make it relate to a punk song. For all the sombre affectations, there’s still hope to be found in Iron Chic’s work; questions of shouldn’t we be doing more – or something better – to assist our fellow human beings.