Story Of The Year - A.R.S.O.N.
- Samuel Stevens
- 3 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Story Of The Year have never been a band to do things halfway, and A.R.S.O.N. feels like the sound of them leaning all the way into who they are in 2026—no trend-chasing, no costume changes, just big riffs, bigger feelings, and that familiar push-and-pull between melody and mayhem. Out February 13, 2026, via SharpTone Records, the album’s title—All Rage, Still Only Numb—pretty much doubles as its mission statement: this is a record about surviving your own head, even when it feels like your head is trying to set the room on fire.
In a lot of ways, it really does pick up where Tear Me to Pieces (2023) left off. With Colin Brittain (Linkin Park) back in the producer’s chair, the band sounds both sharpened and unburdened—polished without losing the grit that made Story Of The Year matter in the first place. The core ingredients are all here: huge guitars, snappy, kinetic drums, and Dan Marsala’s ability to flip between throat-shredding screams and chest-cracking hooks like it’s second nature. But A.R.S.O.N. doesn’t feel like a nostalgia play. It feels current, restless, and emotionally bruised in a way that fits a band who’ve lived a lot since Page Avenue (2003) turned them into a generational anthem machine.
The opener, “Gasoline (All Rage Still Only Numb),” wastes absolutely no time making its point. It’s one of the heaviest things they’ve ever put out—distorted guitars grinding forward, a hardcore-leaning breakdown, and vocals that sound like they’re being ripped straight out of a pressure cooker. Lyrically, it’s pure scorched-earth catharsis, a “burn it down and start again” manifesto that sets the emotional temperature for the whole record. It’s chaotic, ugly in the best way, and weirdly invigorating.
“Disconnected” flips that outward rage inward. It’s vulnerable without being soft, built on punchy guitars and massive drums that give Marsala’s confession—“I’m sick of being disconnected from everything I need”—the weight it deserves. The song’s origin story (that piano piece turning into a low-tuned whammy riff) makes sense when you hear it: there’s a sense of tension and release baked right into the structure, like the track is constantly arguing with itself about whether to implode or explode. That push-and-pull is kind of the album’s secret weapon.
From there, A.R.S.O.N. stretches out into a surprisingly varied emotional landscape. “See Through” and “Fall Away” lean into the band’s melodic instincts, balancing urgency with hooks that feel built for sweaty, shout-along choruses. However, it's Papa Roach's own Jacoby Shaddix's feature on “Fall Away” that really sends the track to the stars. Whereas the pair of tracks, “3 am” and “Into The Dark” tap into that late-night, spiralling-headspace energy—songs that feel like they were written in the quiet hours when anxiety is at its loudest. “My Religion” and “Halos” flirt with bigger, almost arena-sized choruses without losing the edge, while the track “Good for Me / Feel so Bad” plays like a split-personality anthem, torn between self-preservation and self-sabotage.
Toward the back half, “Better Than High” injects a jolt of forward momentum in a powerful way, while stripping things back entirely just between Marsala and an acoustic guitar. The record closes out with the track “I Don’t Wanna Feel Like This Anymore,” it's an absolute high note that feels both exhausted and determined—less a tidy resolution and more an honest admission that the fight is always ongoing. That honesty is what keeps A.R.S.O.N. from feeling like just another late-career heavy record. It’s not pretending everything’s okay. It’s documenting what it sounds like to keep going anyway.
There’s a throughline here that connects all the way back to Page Avenue—that same mix of melodic aggression and raw vulnerability that turned “Until the Day I Die” into an anthem—but A.R.S.O.N. sounds like the grown-up, battle-tested version of that very spirit. Story Of The Year isn’t trying to relive their past; they’re using it as fuel to push past the nostalgia.
In the end, A.R.S.O.N. is a bruising, cathartic, and surprisingly nuanced entry in the band’s catalogue. It captures anxiety, anger, and emotional numbness without wallowing, and it turns all of that into songs that beg to be screamed in the dark—preferably with a crowd, however. For a band this deep into their career, that’s not just impressive. It’s a reminder of why Story Of The Year still matters.
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