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thing that stands out is the biting lyricism, like black and blue amongst
otherwise milky white shades of hand holding, heart-tugging, pop music and
soft punk. So rather than taking the true blue theme of she left me for
another man and calling it, "Why Me?" or "Broken Heart,"
and something so monumentally '80s mall storied, here's Fall Out Boy, and
God bless 'em, only a year and a half after their first basement assembly,
and lettin' fly the open chord and defiance in the face of middle-class
frustration |
And
so cleverly while you're bobbing your head, air drumming or grooving to
the guitar pick, rest assured it's not just another "Piss to put you
out" retort to the idea of catching fire and hope you both die in the
end! I can't disassociate FOB with the million or so other power-pop/punk
groupies that've clamored to get their college-age anthems on record chain
playlists and do the next Goo Goo Dolls tour. Starting there isn't a bad
idea actually, and if we went back a few years - say maybe 12 - before the
GGD's got all sappy and sweet, the songs had a robust edge to go with the
recurring morning after-effect to suggest an at-work opposing force when
shits and giggles weren't all the cruel world had to offer. The Chicago
foursome knows this formula and follows it to the letter --anxious, catchy
guitar hooks and highly participative mic sharing to add the so-necessary
depth to the peak/valley croon of wailing Peter Wentz, a pleasantly evocative
personality that's schooled in the BJD style of serve and smile, sing-songy
vocal sharing of about 78 and counting. So while separatism isn't a strong
point of emo-rock music, if there's one quality that stands out from the
rest it's the honesty to transcend the shallow bullshit of youth and fake
in front of a mirror everything you'd ever wanted to be and say and never
had the set to do. Sociologically sound and satirically sadistic, "Take
This To Your Grave" is like the smart-mouthed suburban teen with a
grown up vocabulary and the ability to make overdrawn inter-relational commonalities
seem poignant enough to warrant a return trip to the CD player every six
or seven months. Stand outs and the reason they exist include, "Tell
That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today" - heard it all
before
but find a better song title, "Dead On Arrival," a shorter one
that deals with, you guessed it, but he compares himself to a record, and
that's pretty damned innovative if you ask me; "Sending Postcards From
A Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here)" is another heart-tugger with an
extra dose of piss to accompany the vocalist's vinegar; and "Reinventing
The Wheel To Run Myself Over" is a well worded exercise in self-pity
while the closing "The Patron Saint Of Liars And Fakes" plays
up the boy/girl I know your secret theme and thus the "take that to
your grave."
Conceptual? I'd have to say so, but excuse me while I spit. If you're digging
bands like Ozma, Taking Back Sunday, Jimmy Eat World, Useless ID, or 5 Cent
Deposit types, then this is for you; if you're repulsed by the pre-packaged
selling of late teen drama, albeit expertly presented and left of center
stage, stick to yer 7 Seconds, American Standard types and never let 'em
see ya sweat.
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