“A Better Place, A Better Time” speaks to anyone who’s ever needed a musical light at the end of the tunnel.
When ska-punk band Streetlight Manifesto first announced near the end of the summer it would be releasing its fifth studio album — its first collection of original material since 2007 — I almost thought it was a joke.
Long have Streetlight fans hoped and prayed for a new release from the New Jersey septet, only mildly sated by 2010’s 99 Songs of Revolution, a collection of cover songs. Lovably evil front man and creative leader Tomas Kalnoky has made it a tradition to tantalize audiences at his live shows with vague, false promises of upcoming releases that never materialize. Now, when it seemed to finally be real, the Nov. 6 releases of The Hands That Thieve and its acoustic companion The Hand That Thieves have been pushed back to (maybe) sometime in January. The band is frustrating, to say the least.
It’s times like these, when it seems to have caused nothing but trouble, we must remember why the pain of being a Streetlight Manifesto fan is worthwhile. And nothing better explains the reason for all the suffering than the song “A Better Place, A Better Time,” off debut album Everything Goes Numb. The six-and-a-half minute song, replete with whistled hooks, energetic drums and Kalnoky’s trademark wordy-yet-poetic lyrics all swirled together into a simultaneously cynical and uplifting ska epic that showcases exactly why Streetlight is to be adored.
The lyrics alone are worthy of a full book of analysis. As Kalnoky explains, he wrote it for three people. Two were close friends with cerebral palsy, whom he met while counseling at an autistic camp, whose words of encouragement to each other before surgery inspired the chorus: “And when you wake up, everything is gonna be fine.” Other parts were for his close friend in college who told him she woke up every morning wishing she were dead. The themes seem counterintuitive, but they flow beautifully together into a poignant song about the need to feel important.
The best moment falls near the end of the second verse. “You can’t decide/ And they’re all screaming ‘why won’t you?’/ I’ll start the engine but I can’t take this ride for you/ I’ll draw your bath and I’ll load your gun/ But I hope so bad that you’ll bathe and hunt,” Kalnoky sings. It perfectly encapsulates this feeling of helplessness I’ve experienced on both sides, as someone who’s seen someone else struggling with emotional pain and as someone who’s certainly had her own fair share of tough times.
Musically, the song is almost reminiscent of something out of a musical in the way it combines several different and individualized sections into one cohesive piece. Muted verses build anticipation in the explosive bridge and chorus as Kalnoky makes his case almost snarkily against suicide: “So you’re tired of living/ Feel like you might give in/ Well don’t/ It’s not your time.” Then, it devolves into a small reggae section before picking back up for the outro. This musical diversity is all the more impressive because Kalnoky typically writes songs on his acoustic guitar. He frequently tours solo under the name Toh Kay, playing Streetlight songs as they were written — stripped down on just his acoustic — and this song retains its beauty and complexity without any of the other instruments.
In all, the song rests comfortably in my top five favorites of all time. It is the song I go to when everything feels like it’s falling apart and I need Kalnoky’s gruff voice blasting in my car to remind me everything’s supposed to suck, but things will get better.
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