My Bloody Valentine Concert Review: Austin 4/21/09

Last night, MBV played one of five US tour dates at the Austin Music Hall in Austin, TX.  I arrived with my girlfriend around 6 to wait in line for doors at 7, assuming the line would be around the block.  However, the show wasn’t sold out and the venue could hold 4,400 people so the line was only about 60 people when we arrived.  After an hour of waiting to get in, a quick dash to the merch table (only to be appalled by the $35 t-shirts) and then a long wait for the openers, the first band started up.

I can’t remember the names of the opening acts so don’t ask me what they were, but from rumors in the queue outside and bits and pieces of information from people in the audience, the lead singer of the first band felt that he had some kind of holy spirit in him since and early age and expressed it in his music.  I had no idea what to expect from this and was blown away when a skinny hipster type dude walked out with a full on hobo wine-drinkin’ beard and super long hair.  My gf said he reminded her of an instructor she had when she worked at a Buddhist summer camp.

Surprisingly, the band was really good.  The guitar player pulled off a convincing MBV style of guitar playing while the drummer and bassist keep up with matched intensity.  The songs were too long for my taste (7 minutes at the shortest, up to 15 minutes total) and the singer’s rants about Jesus (obligatory lyric: how do you know there’s a hell?  Because Jesus ain’t no liar) basically made me tune out early on.  If they could drop about 5 minutes off of each song and diversify their lyrics a bit, maybe I’ll give them another listen.

The crowd seemed to dig them better than the second opener, however, who was the lead singer/songwriter for the Lilies.  He had a bit of a Teenage Fanclub/Big Star type sound, but you could barely hear his twelve string acoustic and singing over the general chatter of the venue.  He needed to be turned up a lot.  As a result, most people seemed bored and kept talking shit.  He was pretty good about it though, fininshing up his set without getting angry or responding to it, and his songs really were pretty well written.  He just didn’t really fit in with the ravenous fans waiting to see MBV.

Finally, when he finished his set, MBV came on.  Here is the setlist for the show:

I Only Said
When You Sleep
You Never Should
(When You Wake) You’re Still In A Dream
Cigarette in Your Bed
Come In Alone
Only Shallow
Thorn
Nothing Much To Lose
To Here Knows When
Blown A Wish
Slow
Soon
Feed Me With Your Kiss
You Made Me Realize (with obligatory 20 minute 13 marshall stack jet engine noise solo)

A few notes about the performance.  The oddball musical parts that didn’t come from the guitars were sampled for the show; in other words, both guitar players basically jammed out the rhythm chords for almost every song and let the backing track do the harder sounds.  That being said, Colm Ó Cíosóig’s drumming was incredibly heavy and awesome.  He made simple beats sound complex and full of depth by really making use of the different parts of his drum set (for instance, staying off cymbals in some songs while focusing on the highhat and snare).  He provided a backbone for the show and his facial expressions brought a higher level of intensity to the performance.  Bilinda Butcher’s beautiful, reserved guitar playing and singing fit the sound of the records perfectly, although it was difficult to hear any vocals from near the front-center of the venue.  Both Bilinda and Kevin Shields played mainly a series of Fender Jazzmasters with a few oddballs thrown in, such as Bilinda’s Chavel Surfcaster.  Shields strummed his guitar using his Jazzmaster’s whammy bar on every strum, giving the chords that wavering, shimmering sound that gives MBV songs  their distinctive sound.  Bassist Debbie Googe also put on a great performance, mainly standing in front of the drums and looking awesome while adding a lot of intensity to the performance.  She and Colm looked a lot more into it than Kevin or Bilinda, who both looked nervous and at times uncomfortable.

Now let’s talk about the actual show.  The band has set up about 15 giant strobe lights, that went off in Loveless pink and every other possible color all throughout the performance.  The light was completely blinding and gave the show the same kind of effect of MBV videos; namely, that blurry, hard to see effect, bathing the band in light but at the same time making them harder to see.  The visualizations on the back of the board weren’t very interesting and only showed up for a few songs.  For the most part, the heavier songs were more interesting to watch, as a lot of the impact of the slower songs was lost on poorly amplified vocals and a loss of the heavy, earth-shattering wall of noise that you get on MBV albums.  Without it, a few of these songs fell flat.

The show ended with “You Made Me Realize,” MBV’s famous last song with a twenty minute noise solo (if you can call it that).  Basically, somewhere in the middle of the song, Kevin Shields turns on all 13 Marshall stacks he has behind him (and several other amps) and suddenly all you could hear was earth-shattering distortion.  I remember looking straight at the drummer and having no conception of what he was playing in the stream of sound I could hear.  Everyone was playing their instruments but the overall effect was like standing right in front of a jet engine when its going full steam; utterly mind blowing.  At one point I felt my chest and it was vibrating so hard that I had troubling distinguishing my heartbeat in the midst of the chaotic noise.

People stayed around waiting for an encore but Austin Music Hall promptly turned on the lights and shooed us all away.  I’d heard not so great things about AMH in the past and they were at least partially true (poor sound, not a fun venue) but really, MBV could have rocked any arena.  This was one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time and I highly recommend checking them out if you haven’t.

Black Snake Moan: Utter Shit-pile

by anti-folk hero

Let’s see, where can I begin to start talking about this horrible turd fest of a movie? Samuel L. Jackson plays a po’ boy farmer who is also a god-quoting blues revivalist. Christina Ricci is a complete nympho who gets heroin-withdrawal cravings for cock. She gets beat up and left by the side of the road, Samuel L. (or Laz, as he is called) finds her, puts her on the couch, goes into town, magically cures her cough, learns she’s a slut and then chains her to the radiator to “cure her” of her cock cravings. Sounds like it might be interesting, right?

Wrong. There are big patches of nothing, disconnected characters, and a whole mess of scenes that could easily be cut out (which would make this sucker run a bit more smoothly). Samuel L. can’t play the modest farmer for long, often displaying his machismo first by breaking a bottle on a pool table next to his brother’s head and then singing a blues song where he keeps saying “motherfucker” and talking about shooting somebody in the chest with a 44 (what original fare!). Add to this a whole slew of unnecessary characters, including: Ricci’s insane mother (who is unforgiving when confronted about letting her old boyfriends rape the young Ricci), Laz’s church-going-pharmacist-love-interest, a preacher, a bartender, a young boy, Ricci’s boyfriend (played by pretty boy Justin Timberlake, who spends most of his time on screen yelling, starting fights and generally trying to prove to the world that he isn’t a total pussy, when in fact he is exactly that, a pussy), a 300 pound black crack dealer and many more. The plot is non-existent, which leaves the movie as a poor attempt to reconcile a man who lost his wife, a woman who lost her ability to fuck everything that moves, and a poor attempt to revive the blues, and you have black snake moan.

The product placement was especially egregious. Gibson obviously paid someone on set to use only Gibson guitars for Samuel L. Jackson’s artificially applauded performances (where after each 30 second song, the entire house went completely bananas). His acoustic guitar was some brand new, clean, ridiculously expensive guitar, which was especially poorly placed as Laz was poor and had to sell vegetables off of the back of his truck. His electric was a disgusting magenta colored Gibson ES-335 with decals spelling out “L-A-Z” on the side of it. You know, to add authenticity. Yeah, like this podunk pea farmer would have a five thousand dollar custom shop magenta Gibson ES-335 sitting under his bed and be selling vegetables. Why don’t you just replace his tractor with an Escalade? The effect is the same.

All in all, this is a terrible movie with a sub par but completely expected performance from Samuel L (say “what” again) Jackson while Ricci’s part was hot and sexy but ultimately not interesting. I place the blame on the writer and director, however, who obviously couldn’t edit this diarrhea milkshake into something watchable.

Britt Daniel – The Most Underrated Songwriter Around

by anti-folk hero

“Its so easy to say you don’t care, its so easy to say you don’t need it,” says Britt Daniel, lead singer of Spoon, but I would have to say that you all should care about Britt. He and his band Spoon have been putting out some of the most exciting rock music in the past 10 years and yet just about nobody has ever even heard of Spoon. Well, I for one am sick of that. This band can knock down and kick the shit out of your average indie band, though I think they’d be too modest to say that themselves.

I remember my first Spoon show. I was obsessed with “Girls Can Tell,” their third release. It was my second year in college. I got out of class at 6:30; I went to school in Santa Cruz and the show was in San Francisco, an hour and a half away, and I had no one to go with. Over the phone, I convinced my friend Kevin to come with me. We showed up at a little bar called Slim’s, where I used my fake ID (I was 20) that said my name was “Richard D. James” to get in. We drank Pabst on tap and then fought our way to the front of the crowd to see Spoon perform. They were ON that night, as they electrified a packed house through most of “Girls Can Tell” and a good deal of “A Series of Sneaks.” For an encore, Britt Daniel even came out with an acoustic guitar and played “The Agony of Lafitte,” a song which he wrote as a gypsy curse for an evil record executive he once knew. The whole evening was so fun and exciting that Spoon immediately moved into my own personal hall of fame. Since then, I’ve seen them at the “All Tomorrow’s Parties” concert, where they played on the stationary cruise ship slash hotel, the Queen Mary. I’ve seen them headline at the Wiltern in LA and even up at the Fillmore in San Francisco.

So you’re probably saying, so what, why should I care? Well, listen to this song and see what you think.

JONATHON FISK

maybe you remember maybe you’re locked away
maybe we’ll meet again some better day some better life

mmmm Jonathon Fisk speaks with his fists
can’t let me walk home on my own
and just like a knife down on my life
so many ways to set me right

it’s such a long way home
it’s how the story goes
and it’s like atom bombs and blunt razors
atom bomb sand blunt razors

Jonathon then says it’s a sin
but he don’t think twice cause to him
religion don’t mean a thing
it’s just another way to be right wring
just like a knife down on my life
so many ways to set it right
that’s how it goes that’s how the story goes

it’s such a long way home
you’re too hold to understand
cause I just want to get home now
I just want to get home now

Jonathon’s right down on my life
so many ways to set me right
on the long walk home
that’s how the story goes
and Jonathon Fish always a risk
tells me he counts my teeth every night
I want to get them all back now
I want to get them all back now
and I want to turn him around

This song is Britt singing about a bully he knew in high school (or some kind of school). I read in an interview with Britt that Jonathan Fisk comes to their shows now. What a way to win over your enemies!

Britt recently worked on the soundtrack for the movie “Stranger than Fiction” with Brian Reitzell. Several classic Spoon songs were used and the soundtrack even included a new spoon song, “The Book I Write,” which I haven’t been able to get out of my head for days now. Spoon’s music really connected with me when I was first exploring indie rock music. Girls Can Tell became a soundtrack for my early college days and we spent many evenings listening to Spoon and Yo La Tengo records in the dorms. While my fellow Santa Cruz buddies were jamming to Zeppelin, I was figuring out how to play both the piano and guitar part of “Anything You Want” simultaneously on guitar. I even have a picture I snapped of myself with Britt Daniel from “All Tomorrow’s Parties.” He didn’t seem that thrilled to meet me. That’s ok. I still think he’s a legend.

I’ll lose some sales and my boss won’t be happy but I can’t stop listening to the sound…

by anti-folk hero

The Kings of Convenience are one of the most relaxed bands that have ever floated through my consciousness. Their music is breezy and laid back but still complex and interesting. Their songs are based on the harmonies of two guitars and two voices. The Norwegian duo consists of Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe, a couple of dudes who used to jam together and finally decided to write some songs. They only have two albums out at the moment and Erlend is already in another band, but their second release transcends cultural barriers and resonates perfectly as an album without pretensions or self-consciousness.

“Riot on an Empty Street” plays like a lost Nick Drake album (if he’d been accompanied by John Denver) or an English language João Gilberto record. But the key here are the harmonies; the record is propelled to greatness by the intricacy of the singing and guitar playing. The two sing and play complicated arrangements as casually as if they’d been born to play them. The nylon string guitars are also a nice touch; having grown up playing both nylon and steel stringed acoustic guitars myself, I appreciate a record that makes use of the softer, more percussive sound of a nylon string guitar. Let’s take a look at Cayman Islands, a track from “Riot on an Empty Street.”

Here are the lyrics.

Kings of Convenience – Cayman Islands

Through the alleyways to cool off in the shadows
Then into the street following the water

• This reminds me so much of Venice. We were there in late July and it was hot as all hell, and we literally walked through the alleyways to cool off in the shadows. This couplet is my experience of Venice, perfectly captured.

There’s a bearded man paddling in his canoe
Looks as if he has come all the way from the Cayman Islands

These canals, it seems, they all go in circles
Places look the same, and we’re the only difference
The wind is in your hair, it’s covering my view
I’m holding on to you, on a bike we’ve hired until tomorrow

• Now this has me thinking of Amsterdam on a quiet street off of the main drag. The lyrics evoke the reflection of a person who is just visiting, though looking around passively on the back of a bike. The lines about the wind and the bike bring you out of your reflective state and back in the moment, a good moment I’d assume, to remember the beauty and happiness you’re feeling at that point in time.

If only they could see, if only they had been here
They would understand, how someone could have chosen
To go the length I’ve gone, to spend just one day riding
Holding on to you, I never thought it would be this clear

These lyrics are relaxing, refreshing and enjoyable. Having just backpacked my way through Europe last summer, the lines in this song bring back memories of walking around in Venice and Amsterdam. Its not often that modern music is used to relax, soothe, or alleviate the tensions in our lives. Most often, with music like punk or pop, what we get is something that emulates the tension we feel. While this can help us feel connected to a greater mass of stressed out people, the Kings of Convenience have used their songwriting skills to create something that allows you to sit back and dream. Who else can you say that about these days?

X T C ** n o t h u g s i n o u r h o u s e

by anti-folk hero

For those of you out there who love rock music, especially British rock music, who haven’t heard of Andy Partridge or his group XTC, you’re missing out on one of the best pop groups of the post-punk era. Like a true songwriter, his music isn’t confined to a single sound or approach; rhythms can change without warning, as well as melodies. His lyrics as well as his song structures affirm his commitment to originality and pop sensibility.

I really shouldn’t be so hard on people who haven’t listened to XTC. It took me a long time to fully appreciate their songs. The erratic vocal rhythms and rhyme schemes make it especially difficult to pick up on the lyrics, which are important to the overall interpretation of the song. Take “No Thugs in Our House,” off of their album English Settlement. Forget the fact that the song is incredibly catchy; while that is hard enough for most bands to achieve, XTC manages to write a coherent set of lyrics that tell a story. Here’s my interpretation of the song (note – if you want to read along to the song, start the vid at the bottom of the page playing and then scroll back up and read the lyrics as the song plays);

n o t h u g s i n o u r h o u s e

The insect-headed worker-wife
will hang her waspies on the line;

• Ok, so you’re thinking, “what?”

her husband burns his paper,
sucks his pipe while studying their cushion-floor;
his viscous poly-paste breath comes out,
their wall-paper world is shattered by his shout,

• So far, you have no idea what’s going on. But when you think of the insect-headed worker wife hanging her waspies on the line (waspies being a play on a WASP’s white laundry) and their wall paper world being shattered by his shout, you get a pretty clear picture of a bland white family in working-class England (or America) with the typical, bossy, overbearing father and the good house-wife mother. So far, though, this is all set-up, like a good story.

a boy in blue is busy banging out a headache on the kitchen door.

• This line is easy to skip over, but it’ll come to mean something later in the song. Amateur writers and lyricists take note; this is called foreshadowing. Its part of a greater writing style called subtlety, the meaning of which has been forgotten in the modern era but is believed by current experts to mean “writing while thinking.”

all the while graham slept on,
dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to

• The first time they sing the lines about Graham, you’re thinking, “oh Graham, sleeping away, dreaming of a world where he can do just what he wanted to. I can relate to that.” But this song isn’t about a kid in a boring middle class suburban family with nothing to do. That would be too easy. However, thus far, this is what you’re led to believe the song is about.

no thugs in our house,
are there dear?
we made that clear
we made little graham promise us he’d be a good boy.

• This is the chorus. Right now this doesn’t mean much, but it will later on. I’d hate to spoil it for you.

no thugs in our house ,
are there dear?
we made that clear
we made little graham promise us he’d be a good boy.
the young policeman who just can’t grow a moustache will open
up his book,

• Remember the man in blue knocking out a headache on the kitchen door? Voila.

and spoil their breakfast with reports of asians who have been so badly kicked, is this your son’s wallet I’ve got here?

• The last two lines really give away the most about the actual meaning of the song. This explains the policeman’s visit and also gives us a hint that maybe Graham isn’t the nice little kid we all thought he was.

he must have dropped it after too much beer!
oh, officer,
we can’t believe our little angel is the one you’ve picked.

• This is his parent’s most likely excuse for why the wallet was outside. Seems obvious, right? But the bigger idea here is what is going on. Graham is a some sort of neo-fascist, racist thug, and they’re so delusional that they refuse to accept it.

and all the while graham slept on,
dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
no thugs in our house,
are there dear?
we made that clear
we made little graham promise us he’d be a good boy.

• Now the chorus reads completely differently. Instead of Graham being some sort of rebellious kid being punished by his boring parents, Graham is a sinister little monster being protected by his parents. The chorus reads like a conversation between his parents where they are convincing themselves that he couldn’t possibly be the little shit that they know he is.

no thugs in our house,
are there dear?
we made that clear we made little
graham promise us he’d be a good boy.
they never read those pamphlets in his bottom drawer,
they never read that tattoo on his arm.
they thought that was just a boys club badge he wore,
they never thought he’d do folks any harm.
the insect-headed worker wife will hang her waspies on the line;

• Right here you think the lyrics are about to repeat, but Andy changes it up and continues the story. The next part takes place after the cop leaves, after having not arrested Graham.

she’s singing something
stale and simple now this business has fizzled out;
her little tune is such a happy song
her son is innocent,
he can’t do wrong,
‘cos dads a judge and knows exactly what the job of judging’s all about.

• I like the play on the word “judge” from the above line. Dad’s a judge who knows what judging’s all about; judging that his kid is innocent despite the plain facts and also filling his kids head with stereotypes and racist judgment of other groups of people.

and all the while graham slept on,
dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
no thugs in our house,
are there dear?
we made that clear
we made little graham promise us he’d be a good boy.
no thugs in our house,
are there dear?
we made that clear
we made little graham promise us he’d be a good boy.

At the end of this song, you realize that instead of hearing a light-hearted song about a young teenager who needs to get out of the house and party, you’ve instead just heard a sharply written social critique of parents who condone their children’s behavior by ignoring reality and sticking to their delusions. Partridge’s lyrics are a mirror; by showing people their own phobias and sacred cows he is getting them to judge themselves.

I decided to write this song up because in my last article I thrashed Fall Out Boy’s lyrics while still admitting that they were a catchy band. I wanted to show that a song could be catchy without having to be devoid of any meaning, but also that when a song is written in such a way that it does have meaning, its much more satisfying to listen to. To those of you who haven’t heard this song yet, here’s a link below.

[Youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=WJ9ieVLaLo8]

Fall Out Boy; A Reasonable, Unbiased Analysis

by anti-folk hero

If you live in America and you’re not locked in a dungeon somewhere, you’ll most likely have heard of Fall Out Boy. Thanks to the advertising machine, you can find their name plastered to the pages of magazines like Rolling Stone and Teen Crush. I recently found myself bad mouthing them when I had an epiphany – I had never even listened to Fall Out Boy! In an optimistic moment I thought, maybe I’m assuming too much and should let the music speak for itself.

I pulled up the video for “This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race” on YouTube and watched it. The song was surprisingly catchy. While the words were mainly incomprehensible, the melody and style were in the vein of nineties southern California punk bands that I’d grown up listening to like the Get Up Kids, Face to Face and Nofx. Getting a bit hard, I pulled up a copy of the lyrics. I’ve pasted a copy of them below. Let’s take a look at the lyrical insights Fall Out Boy has to offer the music world.

FALL OUT BOY LYRICS

“This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race”

I am an arms dealer
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words

· The whole “arms dealer” fitting you with “weapons in the form of words” sounds like an angry 14 year old that gets off on violence. ZZZZZZZz. Boring. Maybe the entity being fitted with the “word weapons” is the record company that gets a direct emotional link with young, confused, pubescent kids by shamelessly promoting this band like an indie rock 98 Degrees.

And don’t really care which side wins
As long as the room keeps singing

· This is a subversive lyric. Not caring who wins isn’t cool, its just lazy. The Beasties at least told you to fight for your right to party and John Lennon tried to put the word out that “all we are saying is give peace a chance.” You guys can’t give peace a chance cause you’re incapable of giving a shit. Nothing to say and no reason to say it. Message-less rock at its best!

That’s just the business I’m in, yeah

· This purposeless 5^th line sounds like a discarded lyric by BTO.

This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
I’m not a shoulder to cry on
But I digress

· Please, don’t digress. Your lecture on this “goddamned arms race” was so racy and controversial that I almost felt a surge of revolutionary pride. Oh yeah, and way to reinforce the tough guy, emotionally repressed stereotype on a new generation of people. And wtf are you talking about anyway? What ain’t a scene? Your music video? And don’t worry, no one wants to cry on your shoulder. You’re a dangerous arms dealer with those “word weapons.” Scary!

I’m a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
[x2]

· What exactly is “oh so intricate” about anything you have said thus far? Was it your doctoral thesis on the misnomer of “scene” when in fact this is “a goddamned arms race?” Or is it your artistic use of the fifth line? Maybe its your blasé, “don’t care who wins” attitude that has no doubt helped you to reach new zeniths of lazy, taco bell indulgence. And if you’re lying, does that mean that you really do give a shit? All of these “oh so intricate” lies and really hitting me deep, man. R’speck.

I wrote the gospel on giving up
(You look pretty sinking)

· Writing the gospel…wait a second…are you a religious group? I bet you guys are backed by some serious religious interests. Nice way to explain your lazy, do-nothing-for-anyone-but-yourself lifestyles. The “look pretty sinking line” sounds like emo babble. Pretty, sinking, suicidal innuendo, sexual fantasy revolving around death perhaps? Eh, Couldn’t be that deep.

But the real bombshells have already sunk
(Primadonnas of the gutter)

· Meaningless lines. Drowning analogies are lame.

At night we’re painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like hips or cars*,
No, more like p-p-p-parties

· Do you enjoy painting my trash gold? Cause that sounds like one boring activity. But because you do it while I sleep, its mischevious. Also, kudos on your creative use of the word “crashing.” The double entendre was philosophical and deep.

This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This bandwagon’s full
Please, catch another

· The last two lines sound like jock culture tenets. Something that a snooty seventh grader would pompously say to a kid with thick glasses before beating him up.

I’m a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
[x2]

· Every time you say this, you say “oh so intricate” twice, then you repeat it, which makes it four times. Oh, and a quick tip – saying that the lies you weave are intricate doesn’t make it true. You’re not exactly Eminem.

Yeahh…
Whoa-ohh

· Keep the room singin’ (or snorin’).

All the boys who the dance floor didn’t love
And all the girls whose lips couldn’t move fast enough

· That dance floor is one mean motherfucker. Lips can’t move fast enough for what? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Answer = absolutelyfuckingnothing.

Sing, until your lungs give out

· Hey, you know what? I think I’d like to hear that chorus for a third time! Anyone else? Any?

This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
(Now you)
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
(Wear out the groove)

· Wear the groove? That sounds cool, I guess. Gotta throw in a “hip” vinyl reference.

This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
(Sing out loud)
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race
(Oh, oh)
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race

I’m a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
[x2]

· Ok, I get it, you’re so smart and your lies are “oh so intricate, oh so intricate” times two. Was it necessary to tell me this a total fo 12 times over the course of the song? Jesus, at least paraphrase. Maybe this has something to do with your distaste for reading books (explained below).

As you can completely objectively see, the lyrics are trite, repetative and full of negative reinforcement. Why should you care who wins as long as the party keeps on going? I did feel attacked at first by their dangerous word bombs but ended the song feeling like I just sat through a three hour bar mitzvah.

So how do I connect the bad lyrics with the song that I liked? Why would a band that sounds so good have so little to say? To answer these questions, I turned to the internet to find interviews with the band. Maybe hearing what they had to say would give me an insight into who they were. Here are some excerpts.

Bradley: If you had to label yourself in a musical category would you suck it up and take it like a man, throw a temper tantrum like a child, or debate about it endlessly like a senior citizen?

FOB: Categories are for the library and I ain’t no bookworm.

· Spoken like a person who has never even read a book. Way to be cool, asshole.

What is the songwriting process like with Fall Out Boy?

PW: I write words all the time and give them to [Stump] when he’s writing music. He’s writing music all the time, too.

PS: It’s like, we’re not in bands because we want the MTV. We’re in bands because we enjoy doing it. Whenever I’m not doing interviews, I’m probably writing music and he’s writing words, and at any given moment we’re putting something together.

Can you believe they asked them about their songwriting process? “We just write songs ‘n shit.” That’s oh so intricate of you. My theory is that Fall Out Boy is a tool of the US government. The devil isn’t a fat guy in a red suit with a tail and a pitchfork, he’s a Homeland Security-backed band with nothing to say. If they didn’t have a catchy sound, they would be inconsequential and thus their words would be limp dicked weapons. I’m surprised that a guy named Stump thinks that he has a way with words. Maybe its a penis reference, denoting his “stump-like” cock. Or perhaps he was an extra on King of the Hill before making it big in the music industry?

I think that upon signing their lives over to Island Records they also signed over creative control to some third party, most likely a committee of elderly white men in robes chanting in tongues. They, in turn, wrote lyrics that would not inspire people to speak out but would instead keep people from wanting to speak out. They control what we’re allowed to hear. When you’re being lied to by your leaders, ignorance becomes pro-government. Now that I’ve outed Fall Out Boy, its time to get the word out. Keep music about the music. Love the music but hate the words, dudes! Buy yourself a Dylan record. I suggest Blonde on Blonde.

To be fair, here’s the video. Judge for yourself.