B-Side Guys

Too Late, But Still opens their new EP with accumulated evidence of lives lived poorly or well—bent “Carpe diem” rings from parking lots, star-scarred knuckles, thrift store sweaters off 6th Street, maternal rosaries by the dozen. “Feedback City” constructs autobiography through possessions and experiences that stick: desert hallucinations summoning lost friends, repeat jail visits in identical plaid shirts, art show booze runs, the slow recognition that laughter has become scarce. These aren’t carefully selected meaningful moments but the debris that accumulates when you survive long enough to look back.

The band describes their approach as jumping over every boundary their genre influences established, pulling from melodic and post-hardcore traditions while refusing containment. Their hard-hitting drums, memorable guitar riffs, and intelligent lyrics arrive with passionate delivery that acknowledges debt to predecessors without mimicking them exactly. “Feedback City” demonstrates this philosophy through structure that moves between inventory, confession, apocalypse jokes, and desperate avoidance in ways that resist traditional verse-chorus predictability.

The track examines how bad habits return because they feel good—not complicated psychology, just honest acknowledgment that destructive patterns offer immediate reward even when long-term cost is obvious. Too Late, But Still captures the blur of creating while running on empty, sitting on floors trying to decode your own internal messaging. Their repeated insistence to “come on get out” directed at houses, roads, beers in cupboards suggests the difficulty of escaping environments that enable regression even when you recognize their toxicity.

The final section’s mantra-like repetition—demanding time and place while simultaneously committing to avoidance—reveals the central tension. Too Late, But Still understands that acceptance of loss doesn’t mean things weigh nothing, just less. The objects and experiences catalogued throughout don’t disappear through processing; they remain but gradually lose gravitational pull. The band frames this as progress rather than resolution, acknowledging that some memories persist not because they matter most but because they happened to be what we carried when we finally looked down at our hands to see what we’d been holding.