Koyo – “Barely There”

Following the breakout success of Would You Miss It?, expectations were high for Koyo’s sophomore effort. Instead of swinging for a grand artistic reinvention, however, the Long Island band opted to refine the sound that initially earned them attention. On paper, that restraint makes sense. In execution, Barely Here feels caught in an awkward middle ground, too familiar to feel exciting yet too restrained to deliver the cathartic punch that made their debut resonate.

Production duties were handled by Jon Markson, who gives the album enough grit and texture to maintain its emotional urgency. The guitars retain the rough edge expected from modern post-hardcore, while the drums consistently provide momentum and weight. But the mix is uneven in frustrating ways, particularly with the vocals. Joey Chiaramonte’s voice often sounds more distorted than intentional, muddying some of the album’s strongest lyrical moments instead of enhancing them.

Koyo continue to wear their Long Island and greater New York influences proudly. You can hear flashes of Taking Back Sunday in the emotionally strained vocal phrasing, while some of the brighter melodic riffs recall the theatrical emo-pop of Say Anything. The difference is Koyo approaches those influences with more aggression and abrasion, adding a heavier edge without fully abandoning melody.

Lyrically, the album focuses heavily on suburban frustration, identity and emotional stagnation. There is a recurring sense of feeling trapped between scenes, expectations and personal limitations, which fits the album title well. Chiaramonte frequently sounds exhausted rather than angry, giving the songs a weary emotional core that separates them from more straightforward pop-punk acts.

“Saying vs. Meaning” is one of the album’s clearest highlights. Featuring guest vocals from Sammy Ciaramitaro of Drain, the track benefits greatly from the contrast between Joey’s melodic, strained delivery and Sammy’s explosive hardcore bark. Lyrically, it is one of the most overtly pop-punk songs on the record, calling out the competitive toxicity that often infects local music scenes. The line, “We are not the competition,” lands with conviction, though it is surprising the band never leans into gang vocals to fully capitalize on the song’s communal energy.

“What I’m Worth” best captures what Koyo seems to be aiming for stylistically. Built around jagged post-hardcore riffs and pounding drums, the track channels suburban claustrophobia into something tense and emotionally combustible. The percussion drives the song forward relentlessly, while the guitars create a suffocating wall of sound that finally allows the band’s emotional ambitions to fully connect.

Still, the album’s biggest issue is its identity crisis. Koyo clearly wants to exist adjacent to hardcore, but musically, they rarely commit to it fully. The riffs are simpler and more melodic than most hardcore bands, the vocals are comparatively restrained, and the songs largely avoid the kind of crushing breakdowns associated with the genre. Bringing in respected hardcore guests helps reinforce their scene credibility, but the music itself consistently leans more toward emotionally charged pop punk than genuine hardcore aggression.

That tension between influences ultimately leaves Barely Here feeling conflicted. The band clearly loves hardcore, emo and pop punk equally, but instead of synthesizing those inspirations into something expansive, they often sound pulled in competing directions. The result is an album that blends together too frequently, lacking the memorable peaks necessary to distinguish one song from another.

The frustrating part is the potential is obvious. Koyo still has a strong sense of melody, a clear emotional perspective and enough grit to stand apart from cleaner modern pop-punk acts. But rather than expanding their sound or pushing deeper into their influences, they mostly stay in place, refining a formula that did not necessarily need refinement.

Ultimately, Barely Here is not a bad record, but it is a disappointing one considering the promise of its predecessor. Where Would You Miss It? felt urgent and emotionally overwhelming. This album feels tentative and overly safe. Koyo had an opportunity to widen their sonic scope and fully embrace the chaos of their influences, but instead, they settled for a version of themselves that feels smaller.

For Fans Of:

• Anxious – Little Green House

• Crime in Stereo – The Troubled Stateside

• Movements – Feel Something