Wisher

Wisher feels like the moment a band stops second guessing who they are and just leans into everything that makes their sound hit the way it does. From the very first few seconds you can tell they’ve pushed themselves further than before, not in a flashy “listen to how different we are now” way, but in that more subtle, mature sense where the songwriting has more intention, more patience, and more emotional weight without losing the scrappy, heart on sleeve energy that’s always been part of their DNA. There’s this warm haze running through the whole record, like nostalgia mixed with clarity, the kind of clarity that only shows up after you’ve been knocked down a few times and finally understand what parts of yourself are still worth fighting for.

The guitars still carry that familiar sharpness, but they’re layered in a way that feels richer, almost comforting at times, before flipping into these bright, punchy runs that let the choruses lift. The band clearly had fun experimenting little synth touches, glitchy moments, shifts in texture that don’t feel forced. It’s still emo at the core, but with a wider emotional palette, and that’s what makes the album so engaging. You get that trademark Ben Quad urgency, but it’s wrapped in something more reflective like they’re admitting they’re older, that the stakes are a bit different now, but they’re still stubborn enough to push through the heaviness with big melodies and bigger feelings.

What stands out most is how openly the album wrestles with wanting things to get better, wanting yourself to grow, wanting distance to make sense, wanting the past to stop holding so much power. A lot of emo bands try to sound hopeful, Ben Quad actually means it here. Even when the lyrics lean into frustration or self doubt, there’s a thread of optimism running through everything, that quiet voice that says, “Yeah, things hurt but you’re still here. Keep wanting more.” It’s relatable in a way that doesn’t feel preachy or melodramatic, it’s just honest. They write about grief, longing, friendships that fracture and heal, all with this very human sense that none of us have it figured out, but we’re still trying.

The features add some welcome texture, especially the moments where the guest vocals blend into the band’s already emotive style. Those tracks feel less like features and more like the album opening its arms a little wider. And the closing moments of the record tie everything together beautifully, messy emotions, catchy hooks, and that last burst of energy that leaves you feeling like you’ve gone through something with them rather than just listened to a playlist.

Wisher is one of those albums that doesn’t need to shout to get its point across. It sits with you, tells you its stories, lets you breathe in all the things you’ve been putting off thinking about, and then quietly reminds you that wishing for something better isn’t naive, it’s necessary. It’s Ben Quad growing up without losing the spark that made people connect with them in the first place, and it’s easily their most confident, complete work to date. If you’ve ever needed a record that holds the messy parts of life in one hand and the hopeful parts in the other, this one hits exactly where it needs to.