The Manic Street Preachers aren’t a band you would often associate with punk rock, not in the slightest. The Welsh outfit’s work has generally ranged from upbeat pop rock to moody arena rock over the years. However, it’s the groups unsung debut, Generation Terrorists which is arguably one of their best works. Generation Terrorists is one of the great mysteries of early 90’s rock. With a sound informed by hair metal heroes Guns ’N Roses, but with a lyrical sensibility that owed itself to The Clash, the Manic Street Preachers found themselves in quite a conundrum upon the release of this monstrosity. To top it all off, the album features the most blatant usage of a drum machine this side of your average electropop duo. But somehow, the Manics managed to tie it all together and produce one of the most perplexingly brilliant debut albums of the 90’s.
“Slash ’N Burn” kicks the album off in fine style, with a chugging hard rock riff layered underneath some damn fine sloganeering lyrics. “Worms in the gutter more real than a McDonalds / Drain your blood and let the Exxon spill in” spits singer James Dean Bradfield with all the bile and disgust of a young Joe Strummer. “Nat West, Barclays, Midlands, Lloyds” continues in the same vein, while also featuring a strong glam rock influence The beautiful thing about Generation Terrorists is despite the songs sounding like they were ripped from the Mötley Crüe handbook of rock ’n roll, the group had enough smarts and wit to let the songs rise above the hard rock clichés of their contemporaries. Richey Edwards had a real penchant for writing biting lyrics, that contained a sharp undercurrent of sadness with them (even if he did seem allergic to rhyming at times). Power ballads “Motorcycle Emptiness” and “Little Baby Nothing” seem like a cheap attempt at radio airplay on the surface, but underneath reveal themselves to be some of the most mature and introspective songs on the album, with the “under neon loneliness/motorcycle emptiness” chorus in the former song being repeated like a mantra, while the protagonist seems to delve further and further into an existential wreck.
“Motorcycle Emptiness” might well be one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful songs of the 90’s, an ode to the dangers of commercialism and how money can buy lots of things, but happiness isn’t one of them. On paper, it sounds quite juvenile and rudimentary, but when Bradfield’s heavenly guitar shredding makes its presence known and those backing strings appear, none of that really matters. It’s got that very British sense of sadness to it, that hearkens back to the glam era, channeling Mark Bolan and the New York Dolls in equal measure. “Little Baby Nothing” rivals Jawbreaker at their most wistful, and features dual vocals from former pornographic actress Traci Lords, fitting considering the song’s harsh criticism of prostitution and the effects it has on both the male and female psyche. Singer James Dean Bradfield’s voice fits the album quite well. He hasn’t got the harsh bark of Joe Strummer or the cocky swagger of Axl Rose, but his high pitched rock ’n roll posturing works wonders in the context of the groups anthemic, glammed up approach.
The album isn’t without its faults though. At just over 73 minutes running time, Generation Terrorists contains a fair amount of filler that in retrospect, doesn’t quite measure up to the hits. The Bomb Squad remix of “Repeat” (known funnily enough as “Repeat (Stars and Stripes”) is a dated piece of early 90’s turntablism that just sounds laughable by today’s standards. The original version does’t necessarily fare much better, with the Manics attempting a Crass-esque political spiel, but with the end result being so cringeworthy it’s no wonder they got Public Enemy’s backing band to remix the bloody thing. “So Dead” and “Damn Dog” are punk-by-numbers, that sound like they were ripped from Give ‘Em Enough Rope and given the gated reverb + drum machine treatment. Similarly, album closer “Condemned To Rock ’n’ Roll” sounds like it’s going for the same approach as “Motorcycle Emptiness” and “Little Baby Nothing”, but just ends up sounding like a worse rendition of the Crüe’s “Wild Side”. The production might frustrate you to some extent, with its over reliance on drum machines and and synth pads making it seem as if it time warped from 1987, as opposed to 1992.
The band expected Generation Terrorists would be “the greatest rock album ever”, and fully predicted it to sell over sixteen million copies, wherein the band would disband immediately upon cashing in the albums cheque. Unfortunately, this plan didn’t quite fully come to fruition, with the album barely selling over 100,000 copies in the UK, forcing the band to drastically re-think their strategy. The dull arena rock of the follow-up Gold Against The Soul lead to a backlash against the band, which caused them to go on to craft the dark and despairing post-punk indebted The Holy Bible, regarded by many fans as their magnum opus. Following this, rhythm guitarist and primary lyricist Richey Edwards disappeared on the 1st of Febuary, 1995 and never appeared again. After being presumed legally dead in November of 2008, this lead to a critical re-examination of the Manic Street Preachers early work and a cult of personality to form around the late Edwards.
Generation Terrorists may not have become the era-defining album that the band wanted it to be and in retrospect it seems like such a silly prospect to consider. After all, what’s the big deal about a bunch of Welsh kids trying to be the next Guns ’N Roses? However, it’s important to never judge a book by its cover and in Generation Terrorists case, that sentiment rings truer than ever. On the surface, while it just sounds like a bunch of kids engaging in cock rock posturing, underneath reveals the brutally stark and honest lyrics, which no doubt contributed towards Edwards supposed sainthood. Prior to the album’s release, Edwards caused controversy when a music journalist accused him and the band of being bandwagoners, failing to stick to their punk ideals and simply performing under a charade. Edwards response was to carve the words “4 Real” into his own arm with a razor blade he happened to be carrying at that moment, which required 18 stitches to fully heal. While this arguably more about Edwards mental state than the band’s music, you can draw a fine line between Edwards psyche and the unhinged intensity and ultimately fragile nature of the band’s music. When Bradfield sings “Rock ‘n roll is our epiphany/culture, alienation, boredom and despair”, you get the feeling it’s not a cheap attempt at a hook, but rather an honest sentiment coming from a group of young outcasts, desperately trying to get their voice heard. While it might not show up on any ‘best of the 90’s’ lists, let it never be said that Generation Terrorists isn’t one ballsy debut; but a band who for one brief moment felt the greatest rock ‘n roll band on the planet.
Years & Years shot to prominence when vocalist Olly Alexander provided vocals for The Magician’s 2014 house hit “Sunlight”, and the band has wasted no time in capitalising on this success. Following 2014’s single “Desire” cracking the UK Top 40. Coming fresh off of winning the prestigious BBC Sound Of 2015 award, it seems as if this is the time for Years & Years to blow up internationally. Their latest release, the Y&Y EP, is a vibrant and colourful release that blends elements of R&B, pop and house into a cohesive and hugely enjoyable slice.
With a sound that echoes 90’s R&B as much as it does buzzy electropop, Years & Years sound have built up quite the reputation over the past year. Y&Y collects two of their most recent singles, while also adding on two extra tracks as well. You wouldn’t know it from the way Y&Y flows though, it sounds fairly cohesive for a cheap record label cash-in.Opening single “Desire” is an exuberant track, pairing a thumping house beat with soaring synthesizers . It features the kind of hazy Balearic percussion reminiscent of Duke Dumont’s chart-topper from last year “I Got U”, and the way the trio’s “Ohhhhh-oh-oh” harmonising in the background just enhances the song’s tropical feeling. Follow-up single “King” continues in the same vein as “Desire”, with warm bass stabs countering Olly Alexander’s high-pitched croon. One listen of Alexander’s vocals, and it comes as no surprise that Years & Years have made such a splash in the UK, he’s got that kind of high pitched soft English accent, guaranteed to make girls swoon within seconds. At least 75% on Y&Y would make perfect radio fodder, slotting in neatly beside the Sam Smith’s and the One Direction’s of the world.
The album’s closer “Memo” is the perfect slow-jam. The track fizzles, snaps and crackles with glee, while It brings to mind SBTRKT’s more subdued work, while also inducing flashbacks to Kele’s Trick from last year. Y&Y covers all the bases, you’ve got the upbeat euphoria of “Desire” and “King”, while the leftfield R&B oddity of “Take Shelter” being something of a detour for the band. It’s the one weak moment on the EP, seeming like a slice of pedestrian (and I hate to use this term) alternative R&B. Thankfully the other three tracks sparkle and shine with the kind of smart, glossy pop sheen, guaranteed to entice the kids and please the critics at the same time.
If the quality of the Y&Y EP is any indicator, it seems the Beeb were bang on the money when it came to Years & Years being a quality force in today’s music industry. They have a keen ear for mixing gorgeous nighttime pop with the subtle grooves of house music, and good god if it isn’t some of the most enjoyably captivating music I’ve heard in the past few months. If they can keep this quality up for a 40 minute album, you could easily see them joining the ranks of acts such as Disclosure or Rudimental. Or at the very least, guarantee them some sweet slots in various festivals around the world. Here’s to a full-length in the future.
Usually when we reach the mid-point of a decade, people start reminiscing about the previous one and everything that came with it. What do you remember about the years from 2000 to 2009? Primary school? The Iraq War? Queensland dominating the State of Origin? Personally, all I remember from that decade were a bunch of shithouse songs polluting the radio stations, with the majority of them coming from Australians. For every “Feel Good Inc.” or “Mr. Brightside” on the radio, there were at least a billion Australian Idol runner-ups topping the charts; or some Triple J band tormented you with their dullness and baritone vocals, while simultaneously scooping up ARIA awards in the process. Call it cultural cringe, but we seem to have a higher ratio of good to bad artists emerging out of our country. The following are some of the worst singles the past decade had to offer. It’s best not to click on the Youtube links, by the way, they’re mainly just their for clarity’s sake.
Side note: if you don’t agree with the list, just remember that this is all just my opinion. I’m not saying these are definitively the worst Aussie tunes from the 2000’s (there’sprobablyabillionIforgotabout) they’re just ones I personally dislikeUnless you get triggered easily, I recommend you don’t read this article. Okay? Here we go.
10: Eskimo Joe – Black Fingernails, Red Wine (2006)
One thing that infuriates me to no end is when Australian bands don’t take the time to craft original ideas, and simply deliver pale imitations of overseas artists for Australian consumption. There are Australian bands who are clearly mining the same vein as their overseas contemporaries (The Go-Betweens and R.E.M. both had a keen love of The Velvet Underground, and don’t tell me NOFX and Frenzal Rhomb weren’t closet Descendents fans). However, Eskimo Joe belong to the category where they can’t even be bothered to hide their influences. If you thought Snow Patrol and Travis were the absolute height of slightly alternative pop rock, wait ’til you hear these boys from Fremantle provide every woman in her mid-30’s with their favourite karaoke song for the next decade! Aspiring Triple M bands, take note here.
9: Silverchair – Straight Lines (2005)
If you ask me, Silverchair managed to somehow be the most embarrassing band in Australia in both the 90’s and the 2000’s, which is quite an impressive feat. Daniel Johns wasn’t merely content with turning Seattle grunge on its head and repackaging it in watered-down form to suburban teenagers, oh no, he had to do the same thing to U2 and Coldplay as well. Naturally enough, Straight Lines managed to rocket straight up to #1 on the ARIA Charts, because the general public clearly can’t tell when they’re getting short changed. The one saving grace about this song is that it didn’t chart internationally, proving that Silverchair probably should’ve stayed Nirvana wannabes, rather than try and challenge Chris Martin in terms of “who can sing in the stupidest accent and get away with it?”
8: Hilltop Hoods – The Nosebleed Section (2003)
I can’t think of a single song from the last decade which perfectly encapsulates everything bad about Australian Hip-Hop better than The Nosebleed Section. It’s not just bad, it’s atrocious. 2003 saw the release of such hip hop classics as Jay-Z’s The Black Album, OutKast’s Speakerboxxx/The Love Below and Dizzee Rascal’s Boy In Da Corner, which furthered both the sonic palette and cultural appeal of hip hop, along with being memorable albums in their own right. Too bad Hilltop Hoods didn’t get the memo, deciding to pass off some recycled De La Soul beats mixed with some sub-par rapping as “real shit”. 50 Cent had more credibility on him than these clowns did.
The way they interpolate Powderfinger’s “These Days” says all you need to know, it’s like a passing-of-the-torch when it comes to middle of the road ARIA Award winning Australian boredom. Just swap the guitars for two turntables and a microphone and get let the shittiness seep forward from your speakers. In 2011, I happened to be dragged to a Hilltop Hoods concert at Fogarty Park in Cairns. Needless to say, they sucked just as much live as they do on record. Not to mention the opening act somehow played longer than them. If that’s not false advertising, I don’t know what is.
7: The Living End – White Noise (2008)
Hey, remember when The Living End were content with being Rancid wannabes? Neither do they apparently, if White Noise was any indication. Similar to how Silverchair reinvented themselves as Coldplay-esque stadium rockers, The Living End decided it wasn’t fashionable anymore to spike their hair and sing about being prisoners of society, so they decided they wanted to be the next Kings Of Leon instead. White Noise is one of the most flat-out boring pop rock singles I’ve ever heard in my life. The call-and-response chorus is so nagging and insistent it’ll make you want to throttle the lead singer. The guitars are so bland, and processed to the point where even Dave Grohl would be telling them to tone it down a notch.
The Living End’s earlier material wasn’t particularly that great, but even then it sounds somehow genius in comparison to this. A common criticism leveled at punk bands who swap out their sound to better aim for commercial success is the old chestnut of “selling out”. Clearly every band needs to pay the bills somehow, but in The Living End’s case, it sounds like they simply didn’t give a shit about sticking to their ideals (or lack thereof) and just wanted a number one single. In any case, they got what they wanted and the general public got another annoying single to be played to death by Triple M for the next 5 years. I hope you’re happy, you bastards.
6: Jet – Cold Hard Bitch (2004)
“Are You Gonna Be My Girl?” was Jet’s breakthrough hit, and earned then some undeserved overseas success. With it’s Iggy Pop aping riff and AC/DC-esque swagger, Jet ticked all the classic rock influence boxes and, along with The Vines, looked set for overseas stardom. Unfortunately, they had the lack of foresight to follow “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” with this clunker of a single. Jet sounded like a bar band who somehow broke into the major leagues, but weren’t sure of their own songwriting abilities, so they just decided to rip off some 70’s hard rock group. It’s biggest problem is how boring it is, there’s nothing innovative or invigorating about it. The riffs are from ripped straight out of the AC/DC text, the glam rock swagger reeks of T. Rex and the vocals are straight up Zeppelinesque. Jet are so blatantly unoriginal in terms of rock ‘n roll, that they make Oasis look like geniuses in comparison.
I hate to sound like a broken record here, but pretty much the main problem with all the rock songs on this list is how they simply managed to recycle tropes and conventions of rock songs from eras past, but somehow make them worse. A few years back, I caught Jet opening for Powderfinger on that bands farewell tour, and they closed their set with this snoozer of a song. It says it all, really. Side note: putting a swear word in the title of your single doesn’t make you look edgy, it just makes you look like you’re trying too hard to appeal to the teenage market.
5: Shannon Noll – Shine (2005)
Ahh, Australian Idol. For a few brief years in the mid-2000’s, you proved it was actually possible for reality TV winners to crack the ARIA Charts. For all the success that artists such as Jessica Mauboy and Guy Sebastian have had recently, there’s one Idol runner-up who seems to have faded from the public consciousness. Ladies and gentleman, I’m talking of course about the pride and joy of Condobolin New South Wales, Shannon Noll. Yes, the flavour saver rocking, sheep shearing, country pop singing lad who made runner-up on the second season of Idol was one of the most successful pop singers in mid-2000’s Australia. “Shine” was his first proper single, following a middling cover of Moving Picture’s “What About Me?”.
There’s nothing terribly offensive about “Shine”, to be perfectly honest. It’s just one of generic, uplifting singles that seemed to litter the racks of various Sanity and JB Hi-Fi outlets at the time. However, constant overexposure via the radio and music channels, along with Noll’s omnipresence in the Australian charts have somewhat soured the song in my eyes. It’s honestly better than 90% of the songs cranked out by winners of The Voice and The X-Factor, but to be honest that’s like comparing a bronze turd with a silver turd. No matter how you look at it, they’re both equally shitty. 4: Short Stack – Sway Sway Baby! (2009)
Autotune is a rather commonplace tool in popular music nowadays, so much so that you barely notice it anymore. In 2009, however, artists were still coming to grips with how to use the studio tool properly. And nowhere was this more apparent than in the unimaginatively titled Short Stack’s debut single “Sway Sway Baby!” It was the late 2000’s, Frenzal Rhomb had gone on hiatus and 5 Seconds Of Summer were still in primary school, so the number of Australian pop punk bands in the charts was at an all time low (no pun intended). Thankfully we had this trio of floppy fringe wearing teenagers to give us some of that Myspace-baiting goodness.
Surprisingly, this managed to make it all the way up to number one in the Aussie charts, which is just mind boggling in retrospect. The idea of any sort of alternative band making number one was laughable at best, in the post Financial Crisis era. Somehow, Short Stack managed, to the chagrin of pretty much everybody who wasn’t a teenage girl at this point in time. As for the band themselves, they pretty much managed to resemble every bad stereotype about emo-pop you could imagine, with maybe a little bit of scene-baiting thrown in for good measure. Try and picture a worse version of Metro Station mixed with 2007-era Good Charlotte, and you’re on the right track. The video is absolutely cringeworthy too, just looking at it gives me unwanted flashback of MySpace, Blingee and Nokia flip phones. Next, please.
3: Rogue Traders – Watching You (2006)
Before Natalie Bassingthwait became tabloid fodder and was a judge on garbage reality TV shows, she made her musical name (and I use that term loosely, by the way) in the pop rock outfit, Rogue Traders. They had a handful of mostly awful singles that seemed to be everywhere back in 2006, and “Watching You” was the worst offender. Imagine if James Murphy proucing Shampoo, but if both parties were braindead and devoid of any talent. Pair that with such lyrical gems as “I know my moves like my ABCs” and This song is the reason rock critics hate dance music, because it manages to take the worst elements of both genres and just turns them into a bloody pulp in its execution.
The main riff even manages to rip off “My Sharona” in it’s own sad little way. You know you’re scraping the absolute bottom of the barrel when you decide to rip off The fucking Knack of all bands. It’s possible to make a song that satisfies both your dance floor cravings and the need to rock out with your cock out, but this song doesn’t tick either of those boxes. It’s like the Rogue Traders didn’t know whether they were aiming for the Top 40 or the clubbing district, so they just made a sad compromise because their record label was on their case. Perhaps Natalie should’ve just stuck to Neighbours instead?
2: Nikki Webster – Strawberry Kisses (2001)
When historians look back at Australian history 50 years from now, allowing Nikki Webster to be the opening act at the Sydney 2000 Olympics should rank up there with Tony Abbott’s political career and The Great Emu War in terms of embarrassing moments in our nations history. Not content with making us look bad on the world stage, Ms. Webster felt she needed to subject the nation to an earworm of her own record label’s concoction.
Thankfully, Ms. Websters hopes of being the next Britney Spears sank just as quickly as Sydney’s tourism industry did after the Olympics were over. A failed comeback attempt in 2009 proved unfruitful, and since then she’s made scant appearances in outlets such as ZOO Magazine and 60 Minutes, but none of that will make up for this piece of bubblegum nonsense. Still, those Olympic Games were pretty fun, weren’t they? Not much to say here other than don’t buy or sell, it’s crap.
1: Lee Harding – Wasabi (2005)
I’m not the coolest person on the planet. I still wear skinny jeans long after they’ve fallen out of fashion, Hitler Youth haircuts make me want to gag and I don’t have a Spotify account. Easily my worst offence in the courtroom of coolness is my love of pop punk. Since the 80’s, pop punk’s been one of those genres permanently associated with overly-angsty young men, obsessed with girls and who can’t stop complaining about how much suburbia sucks. Despite all its faults, I have to admit I have a soft spot for the obvious chord changes and the overly emotional content of the genre. As much and all as I find it a guilty pleasure, I’ll openly admit to liking pop punk if you ask me about it, no worries.
But if you ever come up to me and say “Hey, you remember that song Wasabi?”, be prepared to see a blood vessel pop and have your throat choked to within an instant of passing out. This is the absolute worst, derivative, corny, generic, bottom of the barrel piece of shit to ever be unleashed to radio airwaves. Think of every cliche pop punk song you’ve ever listened to in your life, every cliche I-V-vi-IV progression you’ve heard in your head, then multiply those factors by a million. From the “Turning Japanese”-esque oriental riff that opens the song, to the “woah-oh-oh-oh” chorus, there’s nothing in this song that hasn’t been done a million times better before. Who even compares a girl to fucking Wasabi? I get that it’s a dumb sex joke, but that doesn’t make it any less retarded.
The lyrics are just as inane as the title. “She’s just like wasabi/looks like a barbie” makes no sense even in the context of the song. Is he talking about the Mattel doll or a barbecue? I don’t get it. Lines like “She’s wise as Kenobi, listens to Moby, every day on her plasma TV” seem to place this song squarely in the early 2000’s, which make it sound more dated than any Michael Moore documentary. “Wasabi” is so pre-fabricated and engineered for success that it makes the Sum 41 look like fucking Napalm Death. It’s so awful it makes Avril Lavigne look like Joni Mitchell in comparison. It makes “Scotty Doesn’t Know” look like a Chopin composition. I can’t think of a single worse Australian song than this track, even Peter Andre wasn’t this dense.
The past few years have seen a strange upswing in veteran producers gaining sudden latter day hits via collaborations. Take Pharrell for instance: well known for his work with The Neptunes and N.E.R.D. in the early 2000’s, falls of in the end of the last decade, hooks up with Daft Punk (themselves fellow veterans) for a smooth disco throwback which earns both artists their first number one, before finally becoming the hottest producer in the world in the space of a year. After witnessing Pharrell’s meteoric rise to prominence throughout the past two years, you could easily make a similar case for Mark Ronson achieving the same feat.
Ronson is no stranger to pop music,. His production resume includes artists ranging from Amy Winehouse to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and the man even won a handful of Grammy’s back in 2005 for his work on Winehouse’s seminal Back To Black. He’s always been the go-to producer for artists trying to find the sweet spot in-between critical acceptance and commercial friendliness His 2015 album Uptown Special treads a familiar ground where smooth funk mixes with nu-disco cuts to create a masterful dance-oriented pop album that’ll wow the critics and have the general public shaking their hips like crazy. Much like how Daft Punk reinvigorated disco by giving it a fresh lick of paint and some modern context, Uptown Special is a funky throwback to the coke-fueled heydays of the 70’s and 80’s, brimming with guest appearances and enough synthesised bass stabs to make your toes curl.
Mystikal channels the spirit of James Brown with much aplomb on “Feel Right”, while Ronson displays his mastery of the funkiest basslines this side of Les Claypool’s . Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker shows up on the blessed-out “Summer Breaking”, which builds its twisted melody through the use of enough distorted guitars and organs that it bears more than a passing resemblance to Parker’s own band. Parker also shows up on the tracks “Daffodils” and “Leaving Los Feliz”, both of which blend Ronson’s penchant for danceable grooves with Parker’s love of hazy psychedelia and blissed-out textures. The enigmatic and explosive “Uptown Funk” is a gloriously brilliant slice of synth-led dance pop that brings to mind Prince in his early 80’s heyday or Zapp at their most electrifying. The presence of Bruno Mars on the song seems eye-roll worthy on paper, but his vocals are quite strong and suit the songs retro vibe quite nicley. In many ways “Uptown Funk” functions as a sort of pseudo-sequel to Mars’ 2013 disco-channeling “Treasure”, and it’s quite easy to see its wide appeal.
The album continues its hot streak well into the middle of its runtime. “I Can’t Lose” is a ferocious slice of P-Funk intensity, with singer Keyone Starr’s gritty Lauryn Hill-esque vocals pumping the track with heart and soul, while Ronson handles the production duties, giving the bass a gritty edge pPossibly the most surprising out of all the featured artists would be Stevie Wonder’s, showing up on both “Uptown’s First Finale” and “Crack In The Pearl, Pt. II. On paper, Mark Ronson working with the Motown woner kid sounds like a match made in heave. However on record, you can barely tell Stevie’s there at all, since all he does is play a harmonica and sing a line or two. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could’ve chucked any old session musician in and the general public wouldn’t have been able to tell the bloke who wrote “Superstitious” had anything to do with either track.
Probably the one thing that makes Uptown Special so damn intriguing is that, despite the presence of Bruno Mars on the chart topping “Uptown Funk”, nothing on the album seems like a cheap attempt at gaining a hit. It’s a delightfully anachronistic romp back to the heyday of synth funk and my god is it ever a fun trip. What Random Access Memories did for disco back in 2013, Uptown Special does for the funk in 2015. It takes the fuzzy, synth-led basslines and processed drums which defined the Minneapolis Sound and gives it a sparkly modern update, fit for Generation Y consumption (that EDM buildup on “Uptown Funk” can’t be the sole reason it got to number one, can it?”). If you’re looking for a smooth, radio friendly album that’ll make you want to put on your dancing shoes and move on up to a higher plane of funky goodness, Uptown Special is the album for you.
Beach Slang – Who Would Ever Want Anything So Broken?
There’s a certain subset of pop punk bands which I’ve failed to cover properly on this website in the past. It’s kind of hard to pinpoint exactly what defines it, but you’ll know what I’m talking about when you hear it. The kind of bands who have a little bit of Jawbreaker in their DNA, crossed with a touch of The Replacements, bathed in the fires of Hot Water Music, and sprinkled off with a bit of Dillinger Four. You could call it Orgcore, but really that wouldn’t be doing it justice, since this stuff seems to have gone beyond the Punknews ghetto and infested multiple other outlets of punk rock.
And that’s where today’s band comes in. Beach Slang are a trio of snotty punk kids hailing from the beautiful city of Philadelphia, home to such pop punk powerhouses as The Wonder Years, Man Overboard and State Champs. However, you get the feeling Beach Slang would consider it an insult to be lumped in with those bands, as their sound owes far more to the punk-turned-alternative-rock bands of the 80’s and 90’s, with the trio drawing comparisons to The Replacements, The Psychedelic Furs and even Jawbreaker of all bands (I told you). Also, can I just say that bands REALLY need to stop putting the word “Beach” in their name? Seriously, Beach House, Beach Fossils, Beach Slang, Jesus Christ.
Anyway, Who Would Ever Want Anything So Broken? starts off promising enough. “Filthy Luck” is a nice little slice of Replacements-esque punk, with the lead singer trying to put on his best Richard-Butler-meets-Paul-Westerberg voice. The production on the album does leave a lot to be desired, however. The guitars sound weak and lifeless, and bring to mind Lifetime’s Jersey’s Best Dancers filtered through copious amounts of alcohol and codeine. Following track “Kids”, aside from having an over-the-top and slightly pretentious opening drum solo, is essentially a retread of “Filthy Luck”, same chords and all. When you’re not even three minutes into this EP and already the band are repeating themselves, that doesn’t exactly bode well for the next 7 minutes, that’s for sure.
“Get Lost” sounds like it could’ve been a Psychedelic Furs B-side from 1981. It’s a nice little slice of downbeat emo amongst some relatively middle-of-the-road plodding punk tunes. Also the use of distortion and jangly guitars is really giving me some Hyperview flashbacks, even though Who Would Ever Want Anything So Broken? predates that album by almost a year. “Punk Or Lust” is one for the Punknews crowd, it’s got that vibe that’s reminiscent of melodic beardo-punk outfits such as The Swellers and The Gaslight Anthem mined for the past half a decade. Speaking of which, this is my main problem with Beach Slang. They’re way too content to rely on the sum of their influences. I’m aware that since this is their debut EP, I probably shouldn’t expect them to sound like a well-oiled machine capable of inducing shock and bewilderment in every song they unleash. But as someone who pretty much worshipped at the dual alters of Schwarzenbach and Westerberg throughout the second half of high school, this EP doesn’t reveal any long-lost surprises that I didn’t already know.
Listening to Who Would Ever Want Anything So Broken? feels like playing an unsatisfying sequel to a long-forgotten video game, you’ve got a curious sense that you’ve been here before and you really just wish you were playing its predecessor instead. Beach Slang have a lot of good ideas, and with a bit of time perhaps they could develop those ideas a bit further and release an album capable of wowing even the most jaded critic. But at the moment, they sound far too indebted to their revivalist sound Beach Slang have recently signed to the indie powerhouse that is Polyvinyl Records, so expect them to blow up tremendously with the Pitchfork/Vice crowd anytime soon nowadays. If you’re into moody, stuck up, alternative rock tinged pop punk then Beach Slang should be your new favourite band on the planet. Personally, I’ll stick to my Wonder Years albums thanks.
Australia has always had a very warped view on what constitutes indie rock, let’s face it. We had a good thing going in the 80’s with The Go-Betweens and The Church, but once the 90’s came round, we suddenly thought shit like Frente! or Jebediah were good representations of our alternative music, and that’s not even getting into all the Silverchair wannabes. In the 2010’s, Australia’s vision of indie rock seems to have come full circle again, with bands playing a slight variation on the jangly sound that The Go-Betweens were pushing back in 1988. The most prominent out of all these bands would easily have to be the Melbourne-based jangle pop quartet, Twerps. Twerps rose to prominence along with their similar- minded contemporaries Dick Diver and Courtney Barnett by playing a version of jangly guitar pop hearkened back to the 80’s indie pop scene. These bands owed as much to The Go-Betweens and early R.E.M. as much they did to the laid-back Dunedin Sound groups such as The Bats or The Chills, in terms of. This isn’t simply an Australian phenomenon either, international acts such as Canada’s Mac DeMarco or Real Estate from the U.S. have also gotten in on the jangly pop fun. And with the twenty year cycle in full effect, it seems funny that the sound of rickenbackers and strumming guitars has made such a resurgence in indie circles. Twerps Range Anxiety is their latest attempt at capturing the jangly zeitgeist into album form, following two self-titled albums and multiple EP’s,
Twerps previous release, 2014’s Underlay EP functioned like a more lo-fi version of Range Anxiety, and as the bands first overseas release, it helped introduce international audiences to their own particular brand of ramshackle guitar pop. Range Anxiety is the group’s first album for prominent US indie label Merge Records, the home of such respected indie acts like Arcade Fire, Superchunk and Neutral Milk Hotel. “I Don’t Mind” is a rather breezy and sweet way of opening the album, with its ‘couldn’t care less’ lyrics building a rather carefree atmosphere, and it feels like the perfect soundtrack to those last few days of Summer. “Back To You” is the fastest paced song on here, and is prominent for including a flute section amongst all the acoustic guitar strumming. “Fern Murderers” sounds like it’s trying something different, with the inclusion of an Angelo Badalamenti-esque keyboard and some eerie bass strumming, but the track fails to evolve or go anywhere past the odd few echoed chords and breathy vocals. The problem with Range Anxiety is that, while it’s all indeed very pleasant and unassuming, there’s nothing here that really grips you or makes you feel anything other than mild enjoyment. After the first fifteen minutes, virtually all of the songs blend together into a big, jangly haze of pleasantness, and it feels like every song runs at the same tempo, so there’s basically no pacing involved whatsoever.
Range Anxiety is about the closest you could get to calling something comfort food rock, there’s virtually nothing on here that you haven’t heard before. However there’s something intriguing about just how derivative and uninspired Twerps manage to be in the space of 40 odd minutes. It takes dedication to make something as bland and run-of-the-mill as Range Anxiety, and Twerps are nothing if not dedicated to regurgitate the past 30 years of alternative music with all the tenacity of a kid in a candy store. There’s a few sparks of brilliance here and thereabout on the album, but most of the album simply reeks of blandness. “Adrenaline”, with its vapid Be My Baby/Just Like Honey drumbeat and cooing Fleet Foxes-esque backing vocals is possibly the worst offender in this regard.
Twerps sound afraid to challenge themselves, or go beyond listeners expectations. If you’re a newcomer to the band, fi you’ve ever heard 30 seconds of a Yo La Tengo song, you’ll have heard the entirety of Range Anxiety. It’s possible to adhere to a well-worn template and still come up with an enjoyable album in the process (see: Mac DeMarco’s Salad Days from 2014, or Courtney Barnett’s How To Cut A Carrot Into A Rose EP from 2013). However, Twerps don’t simply There is nothing on this album that hasn’t been done before by much better artists. If middle-of-the-road landfill indie rock is your thing, give this a go. For everybody else, just stick to 16 Lovers Lane and the Flying Nun back catalog, I guarantee they’ll both give you far more enjoyment than this will.
Maturation is a disease that afflicts plenty of bands, and quite often causes them to go down the road of mediocre albums and incur change of audience real fast. Nowhere is this more evident than on Title Fight’s latest album, Hyperview. Back in 2011, Title Fight made their name with their debut album Shed, released on the hardcore label SideOneDummy. Shed was a speedy little pop punk album that bore quite a strong hardcore influence, akin to bands such as Lifetime or Have Heart and it captured the hearts of critics around the United States. Shed wasn’t a huge commercial success by any means, but it did allow Title Fight to develop quite a reputation in the American punk scene. Their follow-up album Floral Green ditched a lot of the hardcore trappings and contained strong alternative rock and shoegaze overtones, which diluted their sound quite a bit. However, it still had the same fiery punk spirit and gritty production of their early work in order to satisfy their fans.
For Hyperview, however, Title Fight have mostly ditched whatever semblance of hardcore and pop punk remained in their music, choosing to dive face-forward into the world of shoegaze. The tracks on Hyperview echo with enough reverb and breathy vocals, it’d make Kevin Shields cry tears of joy. “Chlorine” is a nice jangly tune, that probably would have been a great hit on MTV’s 120 Minutes two decades ago. “Your Pain Is Mine Now” is arguably the centrepiece of the whole album, a beautifully melancholic cut that evokes the breezy shoegaze of acts such as Galaxie 500 or Lush. The production on Hyperview is undoubtedly slicker and less grittier than Title Fight’s previous recordings, however it seems as if the band relies too much on the production. Lead singer Jamie Rhoden appears to have given up the barking vocals of earlier releases, opting for a softer My Bloody Valentine-esque cooing vocal style, typical of shoegaze singers. Unfortunately, this schtick gets old real fast, as does the album itself. Once the first five songs finish, Hyperview quickly descends into bland, monotonous shoegaze wankery.
Compared to the raucous and blistering melodic-tinged hardcore of their earlier albums, Hyperview is definitely a much more gentle and softer affair, and it suffers due to this factor. The jangling riff that opens “Your Pain Is Mine Now” makes you wonder whether Title Fight are closet Smiths fanatics, and Rhoden’s vocals really make you question whether or not he’s been listening to too much Ride. “Trace Me Onto You” with its driving guitar and vaguely pop punk-e is arguably the closest Hyperview comes to catching the upbeat and energetic spirit of Title Fight’s earlier recordings, acting as a decent throwback in the last quarter, amid a sea of dull reverberated guitars and little to no drumming.The songs all sound pretty enough, but there’s not a whole lot of substance to them. You get the feeling that the band compromised on the songwriting, just to make the production sound better and more spectacular in the process. The majority of the songs don’t stick with you at all, the album just sort of floats off in its own cloudy haze, there’s nothing to really grab you at all. Even with shoegaze, you still need a decent melody or groove in order to hook the listener in, and James Brown’s decayed corpse would have more groove in it than the songs on Hyperview.
Whereas Floral Green was a nice compromise between the more mosh-friendly hardcore and introspective naval-gazing alt rock, Hyperview takes the latter. If you’re a fan of acts like Pity Sex or Citizen, who similarly put a more punk influenced spin on the traditional shoegaze formula, then Title Fight’s latest album should be right up your alley. However if you’re a die-hard fan of the band and miss their grittier music, there’s not much to like here I’m afraid. Evolving an established sound can make or break a band and in Title Fight’s case, I sadly think that is has hampered them quite drastically. You could make the argument that Hyperview’s sleeker and slightly more commercial-friendly sound benefits the group, as you could easily picture half the songs on here making an impact on commercial radio. However, if they have to compromise their original sound in order to grow and mature like that, what’s the point? Sorry Title Fight, you’ve lost me on this one.
As an Australian, I’ve always been rather perplexed by the origins of Britpop. I’m not knocking the movement at all, I’ve always loved bands like Pulp, Oasis, Supergrass and all the upstarts with guitars that exploded out of Great Britain in the mid-90’s. One of my earliest musical memories was waking up one morning and watching Blur on the ABC’s Rage program, which was definitely one of the more interesting moments inbetween seeing middle-of-the-road acts like The Goo Goo Dolls and Counting Crows, that’s for sure. If there’s one album that could accurately sum up the Britpop explosion in 60 minutes or less, it would easily be Oasis’s mid-90’s magnum opus (What’s The Story) Morning Glory?.
From the very beginning, the main appeal of Oasis lied in the interplay between the two Gallagher brothers, Liam and Noel. Noel was the primary songsmith and lead guitarist who wrote the bands hits, while his younger brother Liam was the mouthy one whose nasally Mancunian brogue captured the hearts and souls of countless adolescents throughout the mid-90’s Britain. From the very beginning, the two were infamous for their off-stage behaviour, with the brothers foul mouth and general working class attitude contrasting greatly with how the public expected pop musicians to act. In 1993, Oasis signed to infamous independent label Creation Records, who were home to such critical darlings as Primal Scream, Teenage Fanclub and My Bloody Valentine. Oasis’s brash attitude, along with their determination to become the biggest band on the planet undoubtedly set them apart from their labelmates, who seemed to be content with kicking around Britain’s touring circuit, dropping pills in clubs and getting the thumbs up from NME every now and then. Oasis wanted to be bigger than that. They wanted to go straight to the top of the charts, and good god did they get there. When they released Definitely Maybe and the opening drumbeat of “Live Forever” started, you could tell the Gallagher brothers had dreams of playing Wembley already on the brain.
If 1994 was ground zero for Britpop, a year that saw the release of albums such as Pulp’s His ‘N Hers, Suede’s Dog Man Star and Oasis’s own Definitely Maybe, then the following year was definitely when the movement reached both its critical and commercial peak. And it all coalesced following the release of (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? If Definitely Maybe was a bit rough around the edges and bore some influnce from Oasis’s public-shy labelmates, then Morning Glory was the absolute, msot populist statement the band could muster. Massive hooks, sing-a-long choruses, a mastery of pop songwriting and some of the strongest singles in rock history helped Oasis make it big. And that’s the key word, singles. Taken as a big 55-odd minute listen, the album can get a bit overbearing (I never did like “Hey Now!” that much, to be honest), and its the individual songs where the album shines brightest (or “sheeeeyiiiiiiines” as Liam would say). Whether it’s the old-fashioned stomping breeziness of “Roll With It” or the two-chord ascending riff of “Morning Glory”, the albums strengths lies within its individual talents. Morning Glory is by no means the most cohesive album on the planet, but taking each song as a single piece and you begin to realise just how important Oasis were as a band.
“Wonderwall” may have become the go-to song for clueless idiots trying to impress girls with their knowledge of two chords, but you cannot deny its consistent appeal. Nearly twenty years after the albums release, it still remains Oasis’s finest moment in regards of accessibility and overall success. Topping the charts in Australia, New Zealand and Spain; cracking the Top 10 in the Billboard charts and slotting in neatly at number 2 in the UK prove. The fact that “Wonderwall” is followed up with the melancholic and wistful “Don’t Look Back In Anger” seems to indicate that the love which blossomed on the former track simply faded away once the piano keys of the latter kick in. While it most definitely cribs a bit too much from Lennon’s “Imagine”, “Don’t Look Back In Anger” is easily the most mature track on here by far (it helps that Noel handles vocal duties here, relegating Liam to tambourine and background vocals). “Champagne Supernova” has a beautifully escalating chorus fit for a football field, with Liam’s off-key vocals actually enhancing the song anthemic qualities. You can’t imagine someone singing it with perfect pitch, that’d just be silly, and it’d hugely detract from its likeable qualities.
Not all the songs hold up over time though. “She’s Electric” still sounds as disgustingly saccharine and twee as it did upon release, sounding more like a cheap Belle-and-Sebastian-meet-The-Beach-Boys mashup, complete with incessant backing vocals. You could definitely make a claim for it being the most insipid and twee thing Oasis ever wrote. One wonders how Liam Gallagher permitted this to be on the album at all, as opposed to being relegated to a B-side. The two “Swamp Song” interludes remain relatively unnecessary and simply serve to break up the flow of the album. But aside from that, the album is a veritable hit parade of guitar-based pop with some classics. To the surprise of most non Britons (myself included), virtually all of the singles from this album managed to shoot into the Top 10 in the UK, (whereas internationally, the album may have just been advertised as ‘Wonderwall + 11 others’)
At the time, critics were less than kind to Oasis’s shameless pilfering of popular music’s past. From the release of their 1994 debut Definitely Maybe, the band drew comparisons to everyone from The Beatles, to T. Rex and were accused of simply regurgitating the past 30 years of rock ‘n roll history and updating it for the 90’s. Compared to Blur’s sarcastic observations on British daily-life, Suede’s sexualised inspections of adolescent urges or Pulp’s examination on class differentiations, Oasis’s soaring lad-rock choruses and general adherence to traditional rock ‘n roll did little to appeal them to the highbrow critics of the era. Melody Maker called the album “limited” and stated that “the band sound knackered…” Q Magazine stated that “[the songs] scan; they fill a hole; end of story”. The press basically wrote Oasis off as a group of moronic northerners, peddling regurgitated lad-rock to the young masses in opposition to the ‘artistic’ and ‘sophisticated’ guitar pop of London bands such as Blur. You could argue that this was just the British class system rearing its ugly head in the context of rock music, but in reality Oasis just weren’t on the same wavelength as the critics.
Surprisingly enough, Morning Glory went on to be Oasis’s highest selling album, not just in the UK but also worldwide. By 1996, it had sold over 4 million units in the United States, which was no easy feat for a band that didn’t sound like a couple of Nirvana wannabes at that point in time. In the UK it was an even bigger success, becoming the highest selling album of both 1995 and 1996 and skyrocketing Oasis into cultural ubiquity. Unfortunately, the classic vices of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll managed to entrap the band, with the group’s follow-up album Be Here Now being sorely disappointing, a classic case of a band getting too big for their boots and caught up in a whirlwind of success. This time around, the critics were keen not to be left in the dust as the band became cultural icons, that they were quick to fall head-over-heels proclaiming the albums greatness. Despite topping the album charts in 14 countries, the album was such an overblown coke-fueled mess, it quickly found itself garnering scorn from the general public and was ultimately regarded as a disappointment by both the band and their fans.
Listening to Morning Glory in 2015 is a strange feeling indeed. Once the last few notes on “Champagne Supernova” fade off, you get the feeling this beautiful sense of closure. It feels as if there’s no other possible way that the album could’ve ended. If Oasis could’ve never recorded anything else and we’d still be talking about them today solely due to the strength of (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? and Definitely Maybe. But in a way, there’s a beauty in the fact that they didn’t, and that the Gallagher brothers are still just as fiery and enraged this century as they were back in the 90’s. Liam and Noel didn’t want to be a critically acclaimed act who recorded two albums and then disappeared into obscurity. They wanted to go to the top of the world, and for a few brief shining moments in 1995 they were at the top of the world. Despite all the comparisons with The Beatles and how Oasis were supposedly a step backward in the rock canon, Morning Glory is a very forward looking album. Despite everything that followed afterwards (the drugs, the attitude, New Labour, Be Here Now, the downfall, the end of Britpop, the break-up) we’ll always have this disc to remind us of everything that made Oasis great. However, like the song says “Don’t look back in anger….At least not today”.
For my last article, I posted a number of pop punk subgenres and a description of what each of those subgenres sounded like. Since I’m a pedantic bastard who simply can’t let something go without tweaking it (kind of like George Lucas, but minus the neckbeard), I decided to add a few more subgenres and write them up in a separate article. Completionists, get ready.
Skate Punk:
Like most of the genres on this list, skate punk tended to start out sounding borderline unlistenable, then became somewhat good over time. Presumably, skate punk started when early 80’s skate rats discovered punk rock and thought to themselves “Man, I could do a REALLY SICK heelflip to this!”, prior to doing said heelflip and spouting some dated slang words for good measure. The earliest bands like JFA and Agent Orange haven’t really help up over time and their poor production values, snotty vocals and repetitive riffs make me want to rip my ears off, tbh. Thankfully as the 90’s came along, skate punk hit the mainstream big time, with bands like Pennywise and The Offspring making their way onto MTV and gaining gold records in the process. Record labels such as NOFX’s Fat Wreck Chords and Bad Religion’s Epitaph served as outlets for the genre, helping it to gain a foothold and form a solid following. By the end of the decade though, skate punk’s dated sound began to fall out of favour, while more accessible pop punk bands such as Blink-182 and New Found Glory replaced the glut of EpiFat bands which had previously occupied their spot in terms of commercial relevance. The style is far from dead however, with many bands continuing to pay tribute to the classic skate punk sound, andveteran acts such as Lagwagon or NOFX still tour today to fairly decent crowds.
Melodic Hardcore:
This one actually has it’s own separate history to pop punk, but since the two genres are essentially kissing cousins, I figured it deserved a mention here. There’s not too much to describe soundwise, it’s basically just harcore with melody. Melodic hardcore essentially found its start in the mid-80’s, when crappy SoCal bands like Bad Religion decided to take hardcore and play it in a major scale. It wasn’t until the 90’s when guys like Leatherface and Millencolin came around that it actually started to sound somewhat listenable. It also has quite a bit of shared history with Skate Punk, so don’t be surprised if bands aren’t afraid to mix the two styles up together. Funnily enough, it’s not generally that popular with tr00 HxC kids (except for Comeback Kid for some reason. Don’t ask me why). Some bands tend to use breakdowns in their music, but unlike regular hardcore, they’re used much more sparingly. Drop-D Tuning is also quite common, unless you’re listening to some crappy Epitaph band, in which case they aren’t really hardcore at all and you should check your skate punk privilege. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter whether you’re listening to Title Fight, Bad Religion, Dag Nasty, Kid Dynamite, Defeater, Have Heart or even fucking Rise Against, it’s all just basic hardcore punk with some major chords thrown in.
Emo-Pop:
Again, like skate punk, emo has a long and confusing history that is almost completely separate from pop punk, but I’ll forgo that particular bit of history for the purposes of this article. Flash forward to 1999 when Sunny Day Real Estate were practically dead in the water, Weezer had broken up, Ian Mackaye couldn’t give two shits about emo and My Chemical Romance were just a glint in Gerard Way’s eye. While a handful of bands had flirted with melodic variations on emo (e.g. Promise Ring, Reggie & The Full Efect), it was yet to become a popular choice. Prior to ’99, emo was basically the sound of whiny hipsters reciting their diaries onstage with the type of voices that would make Siryn of the X-Force cringe. That all changed when The Get Up Kids released Something To Write Home About, and successfully fused pop punk and emo in a way in which no band had ever thought of. After this, the floodgates were open for kids everywhere with. It wasn’t long until guys like Taking Back Sunday, Saves The Day, Brand New and Silverstein were doing the commercial airplay rounds and taking emo-pop to never before seen heights. As the 2000’s drew to a close, these bands generally died off and broke up, in order to be replaced by all those American Football-core bands that you see reblogged on every Tumblr page with a forest in the background. However, you do still see certain enterprising bands who are willing to mix emo-pop with the current revival sound (ala Into It. Over It, Transit, etc.)
Emo purists will decry these bands, vigorously clutching their copies of Diary and American Football to their hearts while casting it out like the priest in The Exorcist. Pop punk fans, on the other hand, have a more mixed view. Some of these bands in the movement are still fondly remembered today (Brand New in particular seem to have gained a new lease on life, if their current popularity is anything to go by), a lot of them are seen as rather insignificant and quite derivative in the long run. imo, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge still goes hard, and so does Tell All Your Friends, Through Being Cool and Your Favorite Weapon. Aspiring emo kids, take note.
Mallpunk:
And now we come to mallpunk. I honestly should have placed this inbetween the last two, but since we’ve made it this far, I thought it would have more clarity. Mallpunk generally refers to the awkward transitional phase between the late 90’s and early 2000’s where skate punk was dying out, and emo-pop had yet to fully become its own separate subgenre. So you got a bunch of bands that sort of walked the line between pop punk and emo, but didn’t quite fall fully into either camp. Mallpunk was a hugely commercial genre, possibly even more so than Emo-Pop. I mean, these bands were everywhere, no matter if they were on MTV, the Warped Tour, Kerrang, Rolling Stone or clothing stores, this was arguably the era when pop punk was at its commercial peak in general. This was the time when Drive-Thru Records reigned supreme, and labels such as Decaydance and Fueled By Ramen were just starting to find their feet and gain a commercial foothold. Key bands from this period included New Found Glory, who were practically the poster boys for mallpunk in terms of overall influence and legacy, Blink-182, who showed us how to successfully transition into the new millenium with all the bottled-up angst and heartache that Tom Delonge’s nasally vocals could conjure up and finally Sum 41, who were probably the second biggest band from this period in terms of commercial relevance (how is Fat Lip still being played on modern rock radio, anyway?).
Much like Emo-Pop, the mallpunk era is seen through pretty jade tinted glasses. Sure, Fenix TX and Yellowcard were pretty cringeworthy and yes, those spiked haircuts and dickies do look ridiculous. But I’m certain that at least 90% of pop punk bands formed within the past decade owe a certain debt to these bands. You may not like it, but every time you hear a kid picking up a guitar and playing the first few bars of “Ocean Avenue”, you’ve got these bands to thank. Well, that and CW teen dramas. You can never forget those.
Like it or not, pop punk has shown to be one of the most versatile forms of punk rock to emerge, and it’s shown time and time again that it simply won’t die, no matter how hard people try to kill it. Whether it’s 5 Seconds Of Summer playing at the EMA’s, or a garage band covering “All The Small Things” in your local dive bar, pop punk is everywhere. And if you can’t determine your Set Your Goals from your Sum 41’s, I’ve compiled this handy little guide to the various pop punk subgenres contained within this weird and wonderful genre.
Orgcore:
Orgcore actually covers a lot of different punk subgenres, but since it mainly grew out of pop punk, I saw it fit to mention this here. Orgcore gets its name via the fact that bands in the genre tend to be beloved by the website Punknews.org, so the name is more tongue-in-cheek if anything. Sonically, Orgcore bands tend to borrow a lot from genres such as emo, folk punk, indie rock and post-hardcore, and sometimes even all at once. The genre saw its unofficial beginning in the late 90’s, when San Francisco punks Jawbreaker broke up and a crop of bands influenced by them began to pop up and make their mark on the punk landscape. Simply put, if a band sound like they’re a Jawbreaker tribute act (or in some cases, a Superchunk tribute act), they’re most likely an Orgcore group. Key bands in the genre include the pride and joy of Gainesville, Hot Water Music in all their donkey-braying, twin-guitar employing glory. Alkaline Trio, before they fully embraced Hot Topic and became whatever the hell they are now and Against Me! before they recorded Transgender Dysphoria Blues. Orgcore bands also tend to embrace a DIY ethic and definitely fall more on the punk side of pop punk. Modern bands such as Joyce Manor, Tigers Jaw and Lemuria have carried on the Orgcore sound, and given it a fresh indie makeover, fit for Gen Y consumption, making sure that the genre won’t be going away soon.
Easycore:
Easily the funnest subgenre in pop punk, easycore has a multitude of ways you can define it. Also known by the names popcore or happy hardcore (actually a totally different genre, but I digress) at its most basic it’s simply pop punk with breakdowns. But at its most advanced, it’s pretty much one of the most insane and downright funnest genres in pop punk. The genre is generally agreed to have gained its name from New Found Glory’s 2008 Fall tour entitled “The Easycore Tour”, which also featured A Day To Remember and Four Year Strong as support acts. These three bands essentially form the trifecta of modern easycore, and influenced acts such as Set Your Goals and Chunk! No, Captain Chunk! in the process. Easycore contains much influence from genres such as metalcore and hardcore, with gang vocals and breakdowns being a prominent trait. Some bands such as Abandoned By Bears and Chunk! No, Captain Chunk! also prominently feature keyboards in their work, which can lead to a more upbeat and zany sound. Compared to most other pop punk subgenres, easycore definitely takes itself the least seriously, but in that respect it’s easily the funnest and most visceral of all the pop punk subgenres. Sometimes you just need something that’ll make you want to mosh to your hearts content, and there’s nothing wrong with that. When that time comes, chuck some Four Year Strong on and get ready for a beatdown in the key of happy.
Tr00 pop punk:
Coined by the humorous scene blog Stuff You Will Hate, “tr00 pop punk” refers to the wave of pop punk bands who’ve appeared in the last decade and taken the genre by storm. The key thing that defines these types of bands would have to be their over-reliance on incredibly emotional and angst-ridden lyrics. True, angsty lyrics are a staple of pop punk as a whole, but these bands elevate them to a borderline emo level of annoying. Much like easycore, tr00 pop punk also features prominent gang vocals, but it forgoes the breakdowns and aggressive vocals for a more “traditional” pop punk sound. Key bands in the genre include The Wonder Years (post-2009), The Story So Far, Real Friends, Neck Deep and Man Overboard (pre-2011) It’s hard to determine the exact origin of tr00 pop punk, but I’d say The Wonder Years “The Upsides” and Man Overboard’s “Real Talk”, both released in 2010 were probably the catalysts for the genre as a whole. When you picture kids with ‘Defend Pop Punk’ shirts, and played out pizzacore memes, you’re probably picturing the average fan tr00 pop punk kid. Personally, I like it, but if the thought of Tumblr kids posting Real Friends memes makes you want to run for cover, you’d best steer clear of this one.
Ramonescore:
In 1976, New York based punk rock band the Ramones released what would arguably become the blueprint for punk rock, their self-titled album. Following this, the band released a string of great albums throughout the 70’s such as Leave Home and Rocket To Russia that would cement their legacy as punk legends. In the late 80’s, bands such as Screeching Weasel and The Queers would take the template that the Ramones had originally pioneered and give it a fresh update for the hardcore era, standing in stark contrast to the heavier contemporaries of their time. Throughout the 90’s, record labels such as Lookout! and Asian Man would release multiple albums by Ramonescore bands, furthering the genres appeal throughout the decade. Ramonescore arguably reached its apex in the early 2000’s, when bands such as Teenage Bottlerocket and The Ergs! emerged and Ramonescore often crosses over with Orgcore, so occasionally you’ll get bands like the aforementioned Ergs! who blur the lines a bit between the subgenres. Ramonescore can be pretty fun at times, but holy shit it is easily the most derivative out of all these genres (although, that’s kinda the point, to be honest) .Ramonescore is one of the more stagnant of these subgenres and has mostly fell out of fashion in recent years, since there’s only so far you can go with three chords and your best Joey Ramone impression. However, some great recent bands in the genre such as Masked Intruder have emerged lately, proving that there’s still room for those those infamous chord progressions and black leather jackets in pop punk.
And there you have it. Part 2 should come sometime soon, focusing on more pop punk related genres. Thanks for reading 🙂
Patrick's Music Reviews 
