It would be easy to pigeonhole Footballhead’s unapologetically-buttrock-inspired record Weight of The Truth as simple nostalgia bait. Why wouldn’t millennials lust for the days of Halo and energy drinks in carpeted basements they’re not convinced they’ll ever be able to afford for themselves? Beyond that, why would the zoomers that now intently follow not try and chase the high of hyperreality in a bygone world that looks, to them, downright utopian when compared to the present?

What sets Footballhead’s capital-R Rock sound apart from contemporaries is - in addition to just sounding better - a desire and an ability to thread the needle between paying homage to a quasi-idyllic past and pursuing an earnest future. Footballhead wears their 2000s-era influences on their waffle-knit longsleeves, with power chord drives and pummeling choruses, all sequenced together like the teeth of a skeleton key able to unlock core memories for people who’ve either been there or people who simply wonder what being there was like. Both the anthems and ballads on Weight of The Truth are waxed and polished to perfection like the lip of a favored skatepark ledge.

But underlying all that, even more impressively, is a grit and substance derived from years spent in the Chicago DIY scene, exposing themselves to different styles and influences equally out of necessity as out of interest. It bleeds through on every track. You can bullshit your way into a vibe but, as the band shows on any number of recent releases, including singles off their upcoming second LP: you can’t fake heart. With an ear to the past but an eye to the present, Footballhead invites you to remember what it meant to give a shit back when the world felt simpler - and what it might feel like to do so again.