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**Jeff Rosenstock - WORRY. ★★★★☆**

There's something beautifully unhinged about Jeff Rosenstock's creative trajectory that makes perfect sense in hindsight. After spending years perfecting the art of melodic punk chaos with Bomb the Music Industry! and earlier with The Arrogant Sons of Bitches, Rosenstock's solo career has become a masterclass in channeling anxiety into anthemic gold. His third solo effort, *WORRY.*, stands as the neurotic middle child between 2015's *We Cool?* and 2018's *POST-*, forming a trilogy that captures the escalating dread of the late 2010s with remarkable precision.

*We Cool?* established Rosenstock as a solo force worth reckoning with, trading some of Bomb the Music Industry!'s manic energy for a more focused approach to existential panic. The album's blend of ska-punk sensibilities, power-pop hooks, and deeply personal lyrics about mental health and economic anxiety felt like a natural evolution from his collective work. But it was *WORRY.*, released in October 2016 just weeks before a certain election that shall remain nameless (but definitely contributed to everyone's collective mental breakdown), that truly captured lightning in a bottle.

The album opens with "We Begged 2 Explode," a track that immediately establishes the record's central thesis: sometimes the only rational response to an irrational world is to completely lose your shit, but do it with really good harmonies. Rosenstock's voice, equal parts desperate and defiant, rides over guitars that sound like they're being played by caffeinated squirrels with anxiety disorders. It's punk rock for people who overthink everything, which is to say, it's punk rock for 2016.

"Festival Song" stands as perhaps the album's most devastating track, a scathing indictment of music industry culture wrapped in the kind of melody that gets stuck in your head for weeks. Rosenstock's ability to make corporate critique sound this catchy should probably be studied by scientists. Meanwhile, "Rainbow," the album's emotional centerpiece, finds him grappling with depression and self-doubt over a backdrop that somehow manages to be both crushing and uplifting. It's the sound of someone drowning who's still trying to help others find the shore.

The title track serves as the album's mission statement, with Rosenstock declaring "I can't help but worry all the time" over a wall of sound that suggests his backing band shares his caffeine addiction. But this isn't wallowing – it's weaponized anxiety, transformed into something communal and cathartic. The genius of *WORRY.* lies in how it makes neurosis feel like a shared experience rather than a personal failing.

Musically, the album represents Rosenstock at his most focused and frenetic simultaneously. The production, handled by Jack Shirley (known for his work with Deafheaven and Joyce Manor), gives the songs room to breathe while maintaining their claustrophobic urgency. Instruments pile on top of each other like thoughts during a panic attack, but everything serves the song rather than the chaos.

*POST-*, which followed two years later, would take the political implications of *WORRY.* and make them explicit, serving as a direct response to the hellscape that followed the 2016 election. Where *WORRY.* was prophetic anxiety, *POST-* was confirmed dread. The trilogy works as a perfect documentation of American mental health from 2015-2018, which is to say it's deeply unpleasant but absolutely necessary listening.

In the years since its release, *WORRY.* has achieved something like cult classic status among fans of melodic punk and power-pop. It's become a touchstone for a generation that grew up on pop-punk but needed something with more emotional complexity and political awareness. Rosenstock's willingness to be vulnerable while maintaining his sense of humor has influenced countless bands who've realized you can be deeply serious without taking yourself too seriously.

The album's legacy lies in its perfect timing and timeless themes. Released at the moment when collective anxiety was reaching a fever pitch, *WORRY.* provided a soundtrack for the worried masses. But beyond its historical significance, it remains a masterpiece of nervous energy transformed into pure pop gold. In a world that gives us plenty to worry about, Jeff Rosenstock reminds us that sometimes the best response is to turn it up loud and sing along.