New Years Day
– Half Black Heart
Ash Costello isn’t trying to save rock with Half Black Heart—she’s trying to punch it awake with mascara-stained gloves and just enough pop gloss to confuse your local metalhead. This album isn’t subtle. It growls, it winks, it wears platform boots and stomps all over your expectations. After a stretch of lineup changes and style pivots, New Years Day finally sounds like a band with something to prove and zero patience for decorum.
The production is slick without feeling hollow, and the riffs are hotwired straight from the early 2000s—but with better brakes. Costello’s vocals flip between siren and banshee with control that feels earned, not engineered. She’s singing about pain, vengeance, inner battles, and she makes sure you don’t mistake any of it for performance. Even when she dips into theatricality, there’s a grit underneath that saves the songs from sounding rehearsed. It’s emo-metal with a vengeance, glam-punk’s snarl caught in an industrial meat grinder.
There’s a balance here, precarious but intentional. Heavy without collapsing under its own gloom, catchy without pandering. You can hear echoes of Evanescence, In This Moment, and Halestorm—but none of those bands would’ve called a record Half Black Heart. That title alone tells you this band is still dancing with its inner demons, but this time they brought a mirror ball.
Choice Tracks
Vampyre
Opener, tone-setter, and immediate shot of adrenaline. “Vampyre” comes barreling in like a bat out of a Hot Topic warehouse, full of dirty chugs and lyrics that straddle the line between comic book and confessional. Costello leans into her vamp persona with teeth bared, and the band backs her with relentless force. It’s loud, it’s fun, and it dares you not to take it seriously.
Half Black Heart
The title track anchors the whole album. Lyrically vulnerable, musically massive, it’s where the emotional weight starts to hit. The chorus is pure catharsis, practically built to echo off arena walls. What sets this one apart is how nakedly it shows the band’s emotional core—no posturing, just damage and defiance.
Hurts Like Hell
An anthem in waiting. Crunchy guitars, a massive hook, and just enough pop shimmer to make it radio-friendly without neutering it. Costello’s voice carries a bitter edge here—half heartbreak, half threat. It’s the kind of song you scream in your car with the windows down, daring the night to look back at you.
Secrets
The tempo drops a bit, but the drama doesn’t. “Secrets” plays with restraint before exploding into a defiant chorus. It’s one of the more melodic tracks on the record, and it works because it lets the emotional tension simmer instead of boil. Gothic but grounded.
Fearless
Just when you think the album might start softening, this track throws a punch. It’s brash and muscular, with a swagger that recalls the band’s earlier material but sounds more assured. It’s not about being invincible—it’s about being sick of being scared. That’s a very human, very loud sentiment, and New Years Day makes it feel heroic.