A Distorted Reality.

They used to be fun. I swear that they used to be fun. Does anyone else remember the clever songwriting on From Here to Infirmary? The alcohol-metaphor drenched Take with Lots of Alcohol? There was definitely a time when Matt Skiba et al could write with the best in their (admittedly intrinsically cliché) genre of pseudo-gothic dark pop-punk. There were references to unconventional tales of lost loves (usually boiling down to the elegantly macabre ‘I want you dead’ theme), mental illness and the ever increasing allure of the extreme to the disenfranchised: they were songs about real feelings, real people. All of this was accompanied by glorious guitar hooks and drumming which would make even the most virulent strains of the common cold seem like mere 24 hour bugs in contrast to their catchiness. On Agony and Irony, their sixth studio album, all of this seems to have gone: the songs reek the overdone melodrama of boy-meets-girl, girl-leaves-boy and the painful theme of I’d-do-anything-for-you-including-of-course-going-to-hell. It’s truly painful to hear such a once generation-defining band beginning its descent into mediocrity.

From the start of the opening track, Calling all Skeletons, the change which the band has taken is immediately obvious: Skiba’s vocals sound weird. There’s no other real way to put it: they just aren’t his. They’ve lost their playful growl and now find themselves at an overprocessed whine. The vocals seem like the unholy lovechild of Gerard Way and Patrick Stump. It’s hideous. Their hooks and clever basslines have been replaced with palm mutes, a chanted chorus and a synth line which quietly plods away in the background throughout the song. Help Me doesn’t improve much: it’s just more chug-chug powerchords, except this time with a very trebly guitar accompaniment and the hackneyed theme of saving someone from themselves. We even have the ancient pop pastiche of the phonetic ‘la’ being used. Filler syllables. There is not a sole innovative feature whatsoever in these initial two tracks, and it would be a huge leap of faith to assume that there would be in the rest of the album: such a leap I was unwilling to take, which may have made me jaded, but objectivity was always so dull.

However, In Vein does show somewhat of a return to form, with Skiba sounding Skiba-ish again. The hooks are back as well, with a delightfully staccato chord sequence underpinning the entirety of the song. The lyrics seem to be that of the old Alkaline Trio once again, with the wry social commentary of old making a resurgence through ‘kind of like a superhero with nobody’s best interests in mind’ – the societal ills of apathy and misanthropy are dealt with her in a throwaway manner which could perhaps be deemed ironic. A quiet passage half way through the song serves to divide the chaos into an order of sorts and provides the variety which was up until this point so desperately desired and required, it may well have manifested itself through the power of my will alone given any more opportunity.

I refuse to waste words on Over and Out. Just think My Chemical Romance’s Black Parade: it is a complete and utter facsimile, which I suppose would be alright if such an original was your chosen perversion. As for I Found Away, its start of ’strumming through the dark with a broken heart’ just screams the self-indulgence of mainstream acceptance of their genre and a certain arrogance: that line could have been lifted from any notebook of sappy, dire teenage poetry. Including my own of a few years ago, but such things in my life are those which I’d rather forget. Its quiet-loud ascending dynamic across the length of the song doesn’t suit it: it seems forced, a compromise made to satisfy listeners rather than creative desire.

Do You Wanna Know? is another throwback to the Alkaline Trio of the Better Times; infectious hooks and smart lyrics are all that it takes to make me happy. A theme of the transience of emotion also endears the song to me. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it: it could literally be about time-bomb hearts – biological dysfunction is so in Vogue. Live Young, Die Fast is a musical tragedy: a train wreck. It’s sounds like one of AFI’s Decemberunderground b-sides. Which is, most definitely, not a good thing: that album marked the death of another good pop-punk band. From the title, you can just guess what the song’s about: living the fuck out of life, which, whilst a lovely sentiment, is hardly practical – we have societally expected tasks to perform. Like growing old and paying taxes.

Love Love, Kiss Kiss is a Fall Out Boy song. It’s lightweight, flimsy and lacks any real merit. Whilst this may be deemed a harsh assessment, it’s just 3 minutes of oscillating guitars: it’s nothing special. It’s mundane and overwrought.

I’ll be completely honest: I could not bring myself to listen to the last three tracks. Nothing progressive had happened across the last nine, so I couldn’t see it in the next ten or so minutes. It was just the same thing over and over again, with the slight alteration in tempo between songs. I long for the days of old Alkaline Trio. I long for wry wit and infectious riffs.

Failing that, I’ll just avoid their work. Free will is a wonderful thing, no?