Though Wares had been around for a few years by the time they released Survival, their second album is the true introduction to the huge, and hugely heartfelt, talent of Cassia Hardy. As she traces the jagged path from wounded to healing to thriving -- and all the states in between -- the peaks and valleys of her journey are even more compelling because they're steeped in real-life experience: Hardy is from Edmonton, Alberta, one of Canada's most conservative cities. On Wares' self-titled album, she voiced her discontent with living in such a hostile environment in meditative songs that took their time to reach their peaks. Now, she sounds impatient to dive in and live her truth. There's more heft, more urgency, and, most of all, more volume powering Survival's outsider anthems. That might be because this time around, she's not quite as much of a loner: While Wares is technically still Hardy's solo project, this time she's backed by the live band that supported her during her 2018 tours. The megawatt energy of an especially inspired show ignites the punk and emo roots of Wares' music, harnessing those styles' power to unite misfits and express the kinds of outsized emotions that are essential to Survival. Hardy and her band waste no time kicking the album into gear with the blazing "Hands, Skin." This intensity fuels the rest of the album, from "Tether"'s liberation from "the poison in my mind" to "Surface World"'s triumphant rejection of conformity, where the thrill in Hardy's voice when she shouts "I'll sink down further than they thought I could!" is almost palpable.
What makes Survival great, however, is Hardy's skill at shaping her passion into songs with wide-ranging sounds and moods. On "Surrender into Waiting Arms," she transforms the moment when it's safe to give her heart and body to someone she loves into an epic that surges like the best of the Promise Ring or Pretty Girls Make Graves, then floats into blissful freedom. Later, she drops one of the album's biggest epiphanies into one of its quietest moments on "Jenny Says." On every track, Hardy proves she's fluent in different kinds of fearlessness. Not just the bravery to fight, as on the title track's rallying cry, but the bravery to reveal herself completely. Survival is as tender as it is fierce, and its vulnerable moments are among the brightest highlights. The starry keyboards on "Living Proof" echo Hardy's amazement that she's made it this far; on the luminous "Tall Girl," she sings the praises of a kindred spirit: "I can't imagine how hard you fought/Just to survive." Survival's unguarded emotions -- the joy in creating a world in which to thrive, the pain endured along the way -- radiate an honesty that's all the more striking because it's so rare.