In Defense of Pop Punk

I don't doubt that it could be nostalgia, but lately I've been reacquainting myself with the music I listened to in my Junior High School days, and loving it. I was a big fan of the pop punk that was on the radio in the late 90's and early 2000's, and I've come to realize that not all of it was terrible. A lot of it was good. In fact, some it was amazing.

This era of radio punk gets a lot of flak from fans of “real punk.” Many considered it a commercialized mockery of what punk music really is, only existent in order to make money for record labels and corporations. Boy bands with guitars. I was listening to an Ian Mackaye interview the other day, and the interviewer (I forget who it was. I found it on YouTube somewhere, so if you're that interested you can find it yourself) asked Ian what he thought about bands like The Offspring and Green Day. In true immovable Ian Mackaye fashion, he replied that he doesn't consider them punk at all. Now, I love Ian Mackaye. Fugazi isn't one of my favorite bands; it is my favorite band. I wholeheartedly believe that without him and Dischord Records, music, especially independent music, would not be where it is today. That being said, I disagree. Were bands like Sum 41 and Blink 182 so completely anti-establishment that they DIY'd everything? No. Did they suck from the teat of major labels in order to get some money? Probably. But does that really matter? These were just a some of kids who found out how to play a couple power chords and churned out some pretty sick songs. Their music got marketed to kids, and we ate that shit up like Skittles, leaving them with a good wad of cash. Good for them.

I've come to the conclusion that good music is good music, no matter what the reasons for its existence are. One of my favorite songs right now is New Found Glory's “My Friends Over You.” Holy shit this song is awesome. Simple chord progressions (like, two), catchy hooks, and a chorus that everyone in the room can sing along to and feel good. There is nothing wrong with that. Lyrically, it's something that the band's target audience, teenage boys, can relate to. It's a simple “bros before ho's” kind of anthem, and it works. More importantly, it's fun. If there's one thing I hate it's people raining on my parade, and rocking out to Bowling for Soup's “Girl all the Bad Guys Want” is my Thanksgiving.

Was all of it good? Of course not. I didn't like Simple Plan in seventh grade and I still don't like them. Good Charlotte I could do without (oddly enough, I kind of liked that song they did with Avenged Sevenfold), but I realized that I missed out on enjoying some of the later radio hits that came out during the tail end of this fad, simply because I was too embarrassed to admit I liked it. I'll admit that I used to be that self conscious. I remember pretending not to like Yellowcard's “Ocean Avenue.” Which is sad, BECAUSE THEY HAD A FUCKING ELECTRIC VIOLIN. HOW RAD IS THAT?

The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible (2007/Merge)

I remember when this album came out. The album art was all over NYC, not to mention in big bright displays inside Virgin Megastores. If there was ever a time when independent music came into the mainstream (kind of an oxymoron, I know!), it was with the release of this album. And with good reason, too. Why?

It's awesome.

We could get into harsh debates about whether or not Neon Bible is better than Funeral, but why waste the time? This is good music we're dealing with here, I, for one, would rather spend my time listening to Neon Bible rather than arguing about it. There's just so much to listen to.

With a name like Neon Bible, it's hard not to draw religious themes from it, and it is very present. With lyrics like “dear God, I'm a good Christian man” and “working for the church while my family dies/ your little baby sister's gonna lose her mind” it's fairly obvious that this is an album dealing with dark reflections (hah!) of life through a religious lens. This is all well and good, and not to go unappreciated, but what I honestly love about the album is simply how loud it is. Much of this loudness is thanks to my good ol' friend, the pipe organ. I've spent many a Sunday at church admiring the thing, but never in my life would I think that it'd work in a rock setting. Nevertheless, they make it work. The obvious example of this being that big boom in the middle of “My Body is a Cage,” probably one of the best closing tracks I've heard. The pipe organ gets some help with the multitude of all the other instruments mixed in, too. Horns, violins, and Win Butler's own mandolin helps create the feeling of music exploding in your ears. It's all good.

Speaking of the mandolin, the album never loses it's folksy roots. It's not a folk album, by any means, but there's always a twang to it that sounds distinctly American. I know they're Canadian, but Butler was born in Texas. It's good to know that he still keeps his roots about.

Belle & Sebastian - Dear Catastrophe Waitress (2003/Rough Trade)

Good pop music usually comes with this funny feeling. It's a happy, fun, bouncy feeling that puts a smile on your face and a skip in your step. Soon after the music stops, though, the feeling goes away, the smile fades, and you've got to keep walking on your way through your humdrum life. It's a bit different when dealing with great pop music. Great pop music leaves you with something to think about after the smile fades, distracting you from your humdrum life, making it a bit more bearable. That's almost what it's like listening to Dear Catastrophe Waitress.

What makes this album so fun to listen to is its revelry in the baroque. Strings! Horns! Other stuff that I can't make out! It brings the music to a hilarious level, which Belle & Sebastian are very aware of. On the title track, Stuart Murdoch sings “I'm sorry if he hit you with a full can of coke/ it's no joke” while the orchestra in the back makes sounds akin to something that would be heard on a Merrie Melodies cartoon or something. The music doesn't really take any of the lyrics seriously, which is a good thing for a pop record. There's really only one slow track on the album, and one's enough.

Steven Mudoch's vocal delivery makes listening to the entire album a bit aggravating. His whispering vocals distance himself from the music. As the one of the main songwriters, he should be owning these songs like they were his own testicles, but instead, it sounds like someone's got them in a vice-grip and are willing to crush them at the sound of a wrong note. His vocals fit some of the songs on the album, but a song like“If You Find Yourself Caught In Love” could use some chutzpah behind it.

The most disappointing thing about the album is that none of the band members seem to realize that it's not 1960 anymore. Yeah, it's all well and good to craft well executed pop songs that sound like they're from back in the day, but give me something that I haven't heard before, something refreshing. It's perfectly fine on its own merits, but “fine” isn't good enough to progress the genre. “Fine” isn't good enough to mean anything. Now, does every band have to try to do something new with music? No, not really. But then again, not every band has to matter. I'm not sure if Belle & Sebastian does.

Les Savy Fav - Let's Stay Friends (2007/Frenchkiss)

“Art punk” is one of the dumbest “musical genres” I've ever heard. It's a ridiculous phrase that wouldn't exist if it weren't for music snobs that feel the need to label everything. A quick Wikipedia search tells me that it can refer to music made by kids who went to art school and liked Sonic Youth, or music that is done to sound sorta/kinda/maybe experimental. Silly, right? Unfortunately, as much disdain as I have toward the term, I can't help but think that Les Savy Fav do both with style.

Let's Stay Friends is their most accessible record to date. It hits the perfect balance and finds the perfect blend of noise, punk, dance, funk, and pop creating an album that only the deaf couldn't enjoy. Seth Jabour's guitar work is top-notch, creating captivating hook after captivating hook, especially on one of the album's best tracks, “Patty Lee.” Syd Butler's basslines are unceasingly fitting; sometimes groovy, sometimes thumping, always good. He works hand in hand with drummer Harrison Haynes, driving all the songs forward, or pulling back on the reigns when appropriate. On top of that, Tim Harrington is a master when it comes to thinking up quirky, but thoughtful, lyrics and he delivers them with gusto. “If you feel, my dear the end is near/ please do check your frontal hemisphere,” he sings on “The Year Before the Year 2000,” a song that's urging people to always party like it's 1999. It's all really fun stuff.

What's the problem, then?

It's own accessibility is its biggest flaw. By easing up on the noisy guitars that may have driven listeners away from previous albums, and Harrington singing instead of barking, there's a loss of intensity on the record. There aren't enough songs that make you want to pump your fist in the air and shout “Fuck yeah!,” and even the ones that do don't deliver hard enough. When Harrington finally lets go at the end of “The Lowest Bitter,” it's too little too late and the album's over. It's less punk, more art.

As far as the pacing goes, it ebbs and flows nicely. Just when you're tired of drums being beaten over your head, the album offers something spacier and more bass driven. And just when you get bored of that, the album offers ripping guitars. These guys know what they're doing. As their website says, they've been “missing out on cashing in for over a decade.” That's a long time to learn how to piece an album together, something most people overlook.

Despite the fact that they have enough indie-cred to start swimming in it Scrooge McDuck style, the overproduction that blankets the entire album is a problem. Sonically, it sounds like a band's first album on a major label. Yes, I am aware of how pretentious that sentence sounds, but it's true. There's a slick sheen over the album that detracts from the meager offerings of raw grit that we get. This is especially true when it comes to the drums. Take “Raging in the Plague Age,” for instance. The drums on that track should be bone rattling and gut wrenchingly powerful, but they get muted and muffled so instead they sit, comfortable in being nothing more than a metronome.

Even with its flaws, Lets Stay Friends is still an amazing album. I think I'd be happy using the phrase “art punk” if it referred to music that was as good as Les Savy Fav.