Econoline Crush Reclaim the Spark on Explosive Self-Titled Release

by Scott Roos

photo courtesy of Econoline Crush

There comes a moment in every long-running band’s life when the question shifts from Can they still do it? to something more interesting: What do they sound like now that they’ve lived a little longer? On their self-titled 2026 release, which drops February 27th, Econoline Crush answer that question with grit, clarity, and just enough swagger to remind you why they mattered in the first place.

This isn’t a nostalgia lap. It’s a recalibration.

Frontman Trevor Hurst is candid about the band’s mindset heading into the project. The new record—out February 27—pulls together rerecorded catalogue staples, acoustic reinterpretations, and some new tracks. In lesser hands, that formula can smell suspiciously like a contractual obligation. Here, it feels more intentional.

“We play these songs right to the record for years and years,” Hurst says. “And I wondered what it would be like to kind of approach them just a little differently… just try and sort of change things up.”

That curiosity is the engine of the album. Rather than “fixing” the past, Econoline Crush are reframing it. The original versions still exist, untouched monuments to the band’s late-’90s industrial-alt peak. What the new recordings offer is perspective. It's the sound of musicians revisiting familiar terrain with different muscles.

Take the refreshed “Sparkle and Shine.” Where the original leaned into the band’s UK-tinged rhythmic sway, the 2026 version tightens the bolts.

“With the new recording of ‘Sparkle,’ you can hear it’s a little bit more straightened out,” Hurst explains. “It’s a little more active rock radio kind of American rock radio vibe… yet ethereal as well.”

It’s a smart update. The track keeps its emotional core but trades some of its baggy swing for forward momentum. Think less Manchester haze, more highway at midnight. Crucially, Hurst is careful not to position the redo as a correction.

“I’m not really… taking anything away from the original recording,” he says. “It’s not like I’m fixing problems. I just wanted to see what would happen if we could approach something differently.”

That philosophy, an evolution without erasure, runs through the entire record. And it matters, because legacy acts live or die on how respectfully they handle their own history.

Where the album truly plants its flag in the present is with the new single “New Gold Magic,” produced by Kane Churko. If the rerecorded material is about perspective, this track is about propulsion.

“New Gold Magic is about getting your swagger back,” Hurst says, cutting straight to the point.

The song surges with machine-tooled guitars and polished industrial sheen, but what’s more interesting is the psychology behind it. Hurst describes the feeling in terms that will resonate with anyone who’s ever chased a creative high.

“There’s a feeling of almost invincibility when you get to that place where your music’s doing well, the band is firing on all cylinders, and you just feel magical,” he says. “Like when I used to play hockey… there were those times when everything seemed to be going well and I didn't even have to try. It just goes in the net.”

It’s an unusually humble way to talk about confidence. It's less rock-star bluster, more craftsman recognizing when the gears finally mesh. That self-awareness has deepened in recent years, particularly after Hurst stepped away from full-time music for a period and worked as a psychiatric nurse in Indigenous communities across Manitoba.

The experience didn’t turn Econoline Crush into a softer band, but it did sharpen the emotional intelligence in the songwriting. You hear it in the new material’s balance: aggression with purpose, polish without sterility.

Age hasn’t dulled Hurst’s competitive streak either. If anything, it’s intensified.

“It doesn’t get any easier to walk on that stage and play these songs,” he insists. “I still get nervous. I still don’t want it to suck. I still want the people to leave going, holy crap, did they have a rock.”

That line tells you almost everything you need to know about where Econoline Crush sit in 2026. They are not legacy artists phoning it in between casino dates. There is still something to prove—and they sound like they know it.

“It’s still a matter of pride… we want to be the best at what we do,” Hurst adds. “We’re not a band that kind of sluffs it off. We practice all the time. We work on things. We try and make things better.”

That work ethic will be on display March 1 when the band rolls into Saskatoon's SaskTel Centre as part of a triple bill with Live and Big Wreck - a lineup that reads like a time capsule from the era when alternative rock still comfortably filled arenas.

Hurst, for his part, sounds genuinely energized by the billing, calling it “a really great triple bill… a lot of hits from that era.” But there’s also a sense that Econoline Crush aren’t content to simply revisit the ’90s glow. The self-titled record makes a quieter argument: longevity in rock isn’t about freezing yourself in amber. It’s about staying curious enough to keep moving.

That curiosity may be the album’s real throughline. Not reinvention for its own sake, and not heritage-act comfort food, but something more workmanlike and honest. A band taking inventory. Adjusting the dials. Stepping back into the current.

Or, as Hurst puts it when describing the rare moment a song fully lands: “You don’t get a lot of those in life where it’s just like… whoa, that was cool.”

On Econoline Crush, there are enough of those moments to suggest the engine is not only still running but it’s been quietly rebuilt for another long stretch of road.