Modest Mouse’s “An Eraser and a Maze” turns grief inward

Modest Mouse’s – Modest Mouse return with “An Eraser and a Maze,” their first indie release since 1997’s “The Lonesome Crowded West,” and their first album after the death of founding drummer Jeremiah Green. Destined for frontman Isaac Brock’s Ugly Casanova solo project, the r

The first thing “An Eraser and a Maze” does is grab you by the collar—then refuse to explain how it got there. The album opens with a hook-ready jolt. pairing off-kilter percussion with lyrics that land like muscle memory: “Well they’ll go crazy if you don’t go crazy somehow/ And I’m not crazy ‘bout what they’re so crazy ‘bout now.” It sounds like the band that built “Good News For People Who Love Bad News” still knows exactly how to make chaos sing. even when the rest of the record turns sideways.

This new album is Modest Mouse’s first indie release since 1997’s “The Lonesome Crowded West. ” and it’s also the first since the death of founding drummer Jeremiah Green. who passed away shortly after 2021’s “The Golden Casket.” It arrives on Isaac Brock’s Glacial Pace Recordings. a detail that matters less than what the songs themselves do—because. from a creative standpoint. the record was originally destined for Brock’s solo project. Ugly Casanova.

On paper. it’s a familiar kind of Modest Mouse alchemy: distinct flourishes. co-production credited to Jacknife Lee. Suzy Shinn. and Justin Raisen. and the sense that even when the band widens its sound. it’s still listening for one central voice. Brock is the only constant member. and “An Eraser and a Maze” often feels like following his instincts through a landscape of sudden turns—sometimes exhilarating. sometimes frustratingly unresolved. but always alive.

“Remember Yourself” follows as an acoustic ditty with a big heart. giving space to a mellow guitar part from Simon O’Connor. who’s relatively new to the band. Then comes “Life’s a Dream. ” where the track’s pedigree is hard to miss: Jacknife Lee co-produced the song with Suzy Shinn. who also works with Weezer. The result is cymbals crashing and guitars layered into something sky-high—yet the hook doesn’t carry enough weight to justify the production’s heaviness.

That push-and-pull—bigness that sometimes overreaches. quiet that doesn’t quite hold—shifts sharply on “The Third Side of the Moon.” Sequenced after “Life’s a Dream. ” it feels like a course correction the album has been circling toward. Brock’s lyrics come out mournful. then increasingly fervent. and the performance lands with the force of someone clenching the fist of memory. The song is built around the realization that the features of a loved one who’s passed are fading into the ether. and whether or not you know the faces Brock is referring to. it’s easily the most gut-wrenching track on the record.

After that, “Dogbed in Heaven / Give It a Skeleton” moves into side A’s grim pocket. The first part carries a ramshackle charm that turns eerily morbid: “I can go to heaven as I fall asleep/ Hope that people miss me and they weep and weep.” “Give It a Skeleton. ” though. is tethered to side-A fandom and momentum in a way that can’t quite save it from dragging itself a little too long.

A synth-led interlude arrives. and it does two jobs at once: it segues into the second part of the record. and it makes “I Can’t Talk Right Now” feel less out of place than it otherwise might. That song still resists full meaning. It tries to extract something from the difference between different modes of communication. and even when the breeziness turns hollow as a form of commentary. a few Brock lines cut through: “Gonna keep things cool. maintain an open door/ To a windowless room with no furniture.”.

If the album sometimes struggles to connect its ideas cleanly, it can also make its discomfort feel deliberate. On “Speak ‘N Spell (Not),” Brock’s clumsy sincerity and shaky communication tilt it toward anthemic. The track reads like a reminder that Modest Mouse can still spin a great—if not nostalgic—song out of “a trifling disaster.”.

Later, “Rotten Fruit [feat. pkpkpkpk]” brings in Justin Raisen’s eerie pop flourishes, which could have colored more of the record. The song runs on buzzing synth bass and a whistled hook, a pairing that should feel ominously precise; instead, it’s vivid but not quite allowed to fully spread.

The album’s shortest lane into emotion may come with “Knocked Down by Waves,” an acoustic lament that isn’t an interlude and isn’t a fully-fledged track—sandwiched between two punchier tunes. Even in its brief form, Brock’s desperation cuts through.

From there. “Absolutely Necessary Never” steadies the record with animated flourishes and a groove that’s never overburdened by production details—shuffling. swooning. creaking—like the album has been inching toward a balance it can finally inhabit. It’s followed by “Song About Nothing. ” which does what it’s meant to do: it’s functional enough to sing along to. but adds little beyond cultivating an unhinged energy.

Then the album leans into its unruliness on “Stoner Party,” where shouts of “You fuck with us, we’ll fuck with you” make the whole thing feel self-indulgent and haphazard. There isn’t really an “us” or “you” to aim at, and the track stumbles on the very cohesion it tries to perform.

Even so, “Look How Far…” lands with a kind of stripped-down daring. The album essentially gets there by subtraction—“Absolutely Necessary Never” and “Look How Far…” would have formed a solid one-two punch in a leaner sequence. aided by Janet Weiss on drums. “Look How Far…” is so aware of its dynamism it doesn’t even cross the two-minute mark. which is bold for a lead single. Brock memorably laments, “I can’t believe how long I’ve wanted to be living in the past.”.

“Impossible Somedays” follows as the penultimate burst of emotion and motion. There’s a disconnect between the frenetic energy before it and the soaring nature of the song itself. Sleeplessness threads through the record. and it ends by relaxing into a dream—one where “the rocks become liquid. the liquid it turns into a gas/ And eventually the skies. they turn to glass.” Through it all. the chemistry of the band remains intact: guitars blaze. the voice stays singular. and the maze keeps moving.

What lingers after the final track isn’t just the album’s labyrinthine structure—it’s the way its grief isn’t treated as a single moment but as a process. “The Third Side of the Moon” makes the loss feel immediate. but the record keeps returning to its aftereffects: communication strained. memory fading. even joy arriving with edges. With Jeremiah Green gone. with the album’s origins tied to Ugly Casanova. and with Brock steering the ship whether the band sounds big or subtle. puzzled or gratified. “An Eraser and a Maze” ultimately reads like a return that refuses to be tidy. It doesn’t erase the past. It just keeps walking around it.

Modest Mouse An Eraser and a Maze Isaac Brock Glacial Pace Recordings Ugly Casanova Jeremiah Green indie rock album review Jacknife Lee Suzy Shinn Justin Raisen Simon O'Connor Janet Weiss Charli XCX Kim Gordon Grace Ives Justin Raisen