Candlebox has long been a favorite band of mine. Back in the day, they were my #1 band for several years. I have so many memories and stages of life attached to their music; it’s as if Kevin Martin has been serenading me forever. The band has finally decided to call it quits, and I don’t blame them. Their final album The Long Goodbye released back on August 25th, and I wasn’t quite sure how to eulogize the band at the time. I’ll give it a shot now.
I remember in my teens when I secretly began discovering music, hiding it from my strict parents. I started listening to Pink Floyd and Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Scorpions and Alice in Chains, and I always loved the grunge sound of the latter. I kept hearing two songs on the local rock radio station that I absolutely loved, but I couldn’t identify the band—it had that grunge sound I liked, though. For what seemed like months, the DJ never identified the band or song name, and I was getting frustrated until, one day, he at last spoke the name “Candlebox”. Candlebox? What kind of name is that? I mentioned it to my older brother, who then happened to find and purchase for me a used copy of 1998’s Happy Pills at the local flea market.
At first, I was a little disappointed: neither of the songs—“You” and “Far Behind”—were on the disc, but it became the soundtrack for a summer of newspaper sales in Alliance, Ohio, and I still think of those misadventures when I hear the album. It’s also become one of my all-time favorite records. Soon, I purchased all three of the band’s albums, from the iconic self-titled debut in 1993 to the art rock foray Lucy from 1995. And then, as is normal, I found out that the band wasn’t even active anymore. Bummer.
Fast forward half a decade, and my wife and I were listening to the radio in our car when a concert announcement spilled out of the speakers: “Candlebox at the House of Blues Cleveland”. I ignored it, but my wife looked at me like my head had fallen off—the band name hadn’t even processed. I couldn’t believe it! They were back! A new album was in the works: 2008’s Into the Sun. We went to the show and, I would say, there were less than 100 people there. It felt like Kevin was singing directly to us, and I was singing at the top of my lungs (sorry, fellow concert goers). And Into the Sun became a monster album for me as I was trying to sell cable TV in Cleveland. I still think of those times when I hear it (I’m an awful salesman). I was even able to meet Kevin briefly after one of the shows, and have this tiny flip phone picture to prove it.
Soon enough, my younger brother became a fan, and we started going to shows together. I think we’ve seen Candlebox at least 5 times, and I’ve seen them 7-8 times now. I remember one time when they subbed in at the last minute for Puddle of Mudd at a Breaking Benjamin/Three Days Grace show, and they won over the skeptical, younger crowd immediately. When I’m tempted to be disappointed by their retirement, I try to remember all the years of music and emotion they’ve given me, and I would rather have them end things while they are still creative and young than to saunter on into the sunset with an embarrassing tour or album.
I’ll admit that I lost track of them for a couple years around the release of Love Stories & Other Musings in 2012. I bought the album right away, but didn’t connect with it, and then I missed Disappearing in Airports in 2016 entirely, though I never stopped listening to them or Kevin’s side projects. Not long afterwards, though, I rediscovered their newer music and fell in love all over again, and so when Wolves released in 2021, I was here for it. Their music had changed, but, man, they still had the blues and grit in their sound. They still had that iconic voice.
And so here we come to 2023’s The Long Goodbye, a short album at only 35 minutes in length, and so the title is a bit ironic. I was expecting some epic closing track or something, but the album is brief and to the point. As Rob at Progressive Music Planet said to me, though, maybe that is for the best. Why force something? As it stands, the album is full of tightly written songs that are highly enjoyable. No, there isn’t anything as epic as “Rain” or “A Stone’s Throw Away” or “Criminals”, but this is a good and solid album that I’ve been listening to consistently since it released.
The sound is a bit more rough ‘n ready rock, not grunge, and that’s fine by me. Kevin sounds fantastic here, and that goes for their summer tour, too. Kevin still has the edge and the scream that gives me goosebumps, and it all seems so effortless for him. This album definitely has some pop influence, so I would liken it to Disappearing in Airports, a great album in its own right. It’s a bit more distorted and gritty, though, and you will find yourself singing along to almost every song.
My favorites are “Elegante” with its wicked hook, “Nails on a Chalkboard” with its downtempo sort of melancholy melody, “Maze” for its soaring and beautiful nature, “Cellphone Jesus” for its stilted and pop vibes, and probably my favorite overall, “Hourglass”. After listening to the album many times, I’ve begun to realize that “Hourglass” is indeed the ending epic that I wanted. It’s only 4 minutes long, but it has memory, nostalgia, and gorgeous melody running in its veins, and it works wonderfully as the “last” song of the band’s career. I mean, we’ll see if they come back, but Kevin has seemed pretty determined on this retirement.
Candlebox never achieved the status and fame of their Seattle contemporaries, but they’ve always been my favorite from that scene—-and that’s really saying something since I’m a big fan of Alice in Chains and Soundgarden. The band today is certainly not the same as the classic lineup, but the music is still great and Kevin is still one of my favorite vocalists ever. I am sad to see it come to an end, but I’m happy that it was their decision, and I’m happy that Kevin remains as one of the last remaining grunge frontmen. I’ll rest in that as he enjoys retirement.
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Find Candlebox online:
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