Since I was 12 years old, no band has captured the kaleidoscopic range of musical and lyrical quirkiness for me quite like Twenty One Pilots have. This Ohio duo, consisting of lead vocalist and lyricist Tyler Joseph and drummer Josh Dun, is responsible for my deep appreciation of music and widening my music taste beyond just “emo” rock music. 

No matter what stage I’m at in my life, I always come back to their music. Whether it was “Blurryface” helping me navigate the terrors of eighth grade, “Trench” pushing me through adolescent isolation, or “Clancy” helping me appreciate the beauty and bruises of young adulthood, I found so much solace in this band, and witnessing their creative growth has been nothing short of spectacular.    

In May of this year, the band announced “Breach” as a dynamic follow-up to their 2024 masterwork, “Clancy.” If you’re a fan of the band, you may have been as surprised as I was to see that the band was breaking their two-to-three-year gaps between albums … until you realized that they were concluding the lore saga first conceived in “Blurryface” and later expanded on by “Trench.”

While the duo stated that this wouldn’t be their final album, there’s a beautifully sad finality to the story that they’ve been telling: of the fictional city, DEMA, of escaping twisted religion, of battling mental illness, and of the story’s protagonist, Clancy (Joseph) and the Torchbearer (Dun). Although this review won’t be lore-heavy, the band’s sensational world-building was more than worthy of a mention. 

“Breach” is the final arc of an epic story, but more importantly, it’s a reflective medley of refined stylistic choices, rock rager melodies, and sharp lyricism. “The Contract” and “Drum Show” established this new album cycle as a grunge-style conclusion to an intricate narrative while also reflecting both members’ personal lives and struggles. Both Joseph and Dun bring so much passion to these singles, with Joseph bringing back his signature screamo vocals on “The Contract” and Dun supplying insane drum beats and lead vocals on the bridge of “Drum Show.”

As a final installment in the band’s decade-long storytelling, throughout the tracklist, we hear a return of Joseph’s intense rap cadences in songs like the lore-heavy “City Walls” or the Kendrick Lamar-esque “Center Mass.” We also hear a medley of different musical and lyrical motifs that the band is known for, from the happy music/sad lyrics formula to the diaristic quality of Joseph’s lyricism.  

By far my favorite motif is the callbacks to previous projects such as “Vessel” and “Blurryface.” 

“City Walls” contains several lyrical nods to Vessel, such as the  “islands of violence” (referencing “Migraine”) or “entertain my faith” (referencing “Holding Onto You”), which made me particularly sentimental. At the very end of the track, you can even faintly hear the beginning instrumentals of “HeavyDirtySoul” from “Blurryface.” The final two tracks, “Tally” and “Intentions,” pull on this motif even more, with the former being a quintessential “Blurryface” era rager if there ever was one and the latter being a somber yet moving reverse interpolation of the “Vessel” track, “Truce.”

It would be sinful of me to write a Twenty One Pilots album review without mentioning a key component found on every album, including “Breach”: mental illness. The band has never shied away (no pun intended) from this topic, even on their most sunny album, “Scaled and Icy.” Whether it’s depression, anxiety, grief, paranoia, suicide, existentialism, romance, or family, they consistently dedicate so much introspection to the topic, and it’s no exception on standout “Breach” tracks like “RAWFEAR” and “Garbage.” 

A personal favorite of mine, “RAWFEAR,” moved me deeply with its snappy piano passages, tempo changes, and very real depictions of constant fear in its rawest form. The upbeat, almost wistful instrumentation merges perfectly with the restless flair provided by lyrics like “Life is just forever nipping heels, never slowing down.” I’m head over heels for the post-chorus that repeats “Never slowing down” while the tempo kicks up a few notches – it’s such a clever interaction between the lyrics and music! 

Far from trashy, “Garbage” is brazen and blunt right from its very first lyric: “I feel like garbage.” As a pop-rock piano symphony with guitar touches here and there, I adore it, and I love how it adheres to that distinctive happy music/sad lyrics trope. If you’re depressed, disoriented, or exhausted, lyrics like “My systems are operating at 20 percent” and “I’m so lost, like what is happening?” followed by quirky piano melodies will hit in the most poignant places internally. Just be sure not to say “I love Garbage” out of context in front of your friends who don’t listen to Twenty One Pilots (I speak from personal experience). 

“One Way” and “Days Lie Dormant” similarly satisfy that lyrical itch in exploring creative exhaustion and homesickness. Lyrics aside, “One Way” soars sonically with its sickeningly catchy bass line reminiscent of Tame Impala, Joseph’s fluid vocal techniques, and a voicemail message from Dun that brilliantly transitions into “Days Lie Dormant.” 

It took me a few listens for “Days Lie Dormant” to grow on me, but I can say that this track is so saccharine that I almost want to hate it. Come on, a lyric like “Don’t make me waste my love, it’s everything I got” should sound cliché, but when it’s sung so earnestly amidst sunny guitars, silly whistling, and a key change, it rips at my heartstrings in the most wholesome way imaginable. 

“Robot Voices” might be the only song that I haven’t fully appreciated yet. Even though I’m usually a sucker for breezy pop-rock instrumentals, the track lulls in the tracklist and has odd pacing that I just don’t care for. Still, I do appreciate the robotic, futuristic style they were leaning towards. 

In the final leg of the album, “Cottonwood” and “Intentions” give us a taste of heartaching balladry and the quietude of grief. “Cottonwood” in particular struck me deeply, as Joseph somberly croons about the loss of his grandfather. Hearing a lyric like “No, I don’t, no, I don’t remember last time we spoke” made me think about my own grandfather, who passed away late last year, and how badly I tried to remember his voice and the things he used to say to me over the phone. As the track swells, we reach this emotional pinnacle as the piano and quirky synths intertwine in this microcosm of reflection and time passing. 

“Intentions” finalizes lessons learned and mistakes made with an open-ended statement for listeners: “Intentions will set you free, just try to be.” At just two minutes, this short musical reversal of “Truce” cryptically signals the end of things while also leaving slivers of interpretation to be had. What happens when intentions go awry? What happens when trust (or a contract) is breached? Maybe, as Joseph so brilliantly asserts, you should just try by “starting it all over once again.” 

In all its rock-screamo-grunge glory, “Breach” redefines the Twenty One Pilots canon as storytelling in flux, even when it feels like an epilogue to a complex narrative. With this album now nestled beautifully in their discography as their second number one album and biggest streaming debut to date, I can say that I honestly expected nothing less from the band that gave us the enigmatic yet inviting panoramas of “Trench” and “Clancy.” 

9/10

Favorite track(s): “City Walls,” “RAWFEAR,” “Drum Show,” “Garbage,” “Center Mass,” “Cottonwood,” “One Way,” “Tally,” and “Intentions”

Least Favorite Track: “Robot Voices”