The Emo Diaries

Genres in music are pointless. That is, if you like something, you should like it no matter what someone else is dubbing it. But I am a musiophile for sure, and hence am obsessed with categorizing and then placing value judgements, all the while knowing the vapidity of it. What can I say, I'm sick. And speaking of sick, I can remember a time, a short month in the winter of 2001, when Madison Drive went emo. That's right, me, Billy Frolic, Bobby Campbell, Brendan Huffman, and even your man Karl Dettbarn embraced that bittersweetness, that fad. We would get up and skip school, wake and bake and listen to all the hottest new emo acts coming off Limewire and Napster. I can't speak for my compatriots, but I heft a bit of blame for my acceptance on booze and an enhanced sense of romanticism, re: virgin hunting. (See, since then I have been deprogrammed, reprogrammed, and deprogrammed again, now and forever basking in the organic minimalism of Johnny Ramone and Handome Dick Manitoba, so I am a crass bore with a refined intelligence. Complex.) Hot bands at the time included: Jimmy Eat World, Alkaline Trio, Hot Water Music, Dashboard Confessional, Modest Mouse, Hey Mercedes and others we didn't partake in like the Get Up Kids and the Promise Ring, who were to pussy for even the most forgiving, if conflicted, punk rocker. At the same time we listened to garage-revivalists like the White Stripes and the Hives, all of whom provided alot of what we love about punk rock, but those emo bands gave us a bit more: unashamed schmaltz.

Emo did not start as emo. First their was emo-core, derived from primarily D.C. hardcore bands who wanted to break the rigid rules of hardcore music. Minor Threat fans started the Rites of Spring (the "the" is and editorial dis, emo-core bands are never "the" bands due to their sickening post-modernity), which was a harcore band that opened their minds to melodic guitar work, varied rhythms, and the key note: deeply personal, highly passionate, emotion driven lyrics, emotions other than anger. With them began that now emo-classic happening of performers and/or audience members crying during songs, they are so overcome by the pure raw emotion. So, in 1985, that music was dubbed emo-core. Just as no Ramone wanted to play "punk rock", Rites of Spring, Ian MacKaye and their contemporaries dispised the emo-core label, but that was what they were playing, so says history.

From this unsuspecting seed/scene, the emo-core style spread across America's Underground throughout the eighties, proportedley acting as a bridge between the sometimes mindless harcore that preceeded it and the new "adult" emotions that it's participants would inescapably feel, such as: "It was better when we were young and dumb, and now we're somewhat sad about the loss of innocence but, hey, let's sing about it." What came out of these feelings was that new and even more intense realationship between bands and audience, all in it together. By the time the nineties rolled in, the underground sorta started to filter out and the "core" dropped off with new bands such as Jawbreaker and Sunny Day Real Estate recontextualizing the genre and nomenclature, and modern "emo" was born, that is, the huge agressiveness of hardcore, the songwriting of pop punk, and the whiny, tortured attutude of emo-core. When these two bands had run their course, the blueprint for a million bands who would actually want to be called emo was laid, and the sterotypes began to take shape, that is referring to a specific type of emotionally overbearing music that was romantic but distanced from the political nature of punk rock, along with the nerd-chic emo fashion. But these bands didn't take with America's youth as a whole, and the U.S.A. went pop punk as opposed to emo, so the emo movement took its lessons and its stereotypes and went back underground, for awhile.

As this new national subculture drew inspiration from bands like Jawbreaker, Drive Like Jehu, Fugazi, and Sunny Day, the new sound of emo developed into a mixture of hardcore's passion and indie rock's intelligence, bearing the anthemic power of punk rock and its do-it-yourself work ethic but with smoother songs, sloppier melodies, and yearning vocals. So Jimmy Eat World, Braid, Mineral, the Get Up Kids and the Promise Ring all did their thing, never threatening to encroach upon the turn tables of us dyed-in-the-wool pop punkers, whose Screeching Weasel, the Queers, the Vindictives, and the Mr. T Experience not only made those emo bands look like boring, no fun havin', mysoginist wussies, but also held the moral highground of being derived directly from the Ramones, the Platonic Form of what you oughtta do if you got a band. Then the unthinkable happened and the first true punk rock/emo crossover record come out.

Out of East Brunswick, NJ, everybody knows Lifetime. Beloved by punkers and supposedly an emo band, it was this blurring of the line that spawned the worst so-called emo-punk the nineties and new millenium would be unfortunate enough to experience, mostly out of Northern Jersey and Long Island, such as Brand New, the Movielife, My Chemical Romance, Taking Back Sunday, Senses Fail, and Thursday, none of whom are punk rock, but weren't exactly called emo on 93.7 WSTW. This was the beginning of the end, the watering down that would lead people to somehow believe that it had to do with anything more than music and fashion. So one primordial emo sound is that of Lifetime, super-fast hardcore-style delivery on thoughtful personal lyrics and big major chords. Another is the Promise Ring, soft and sweet, no balls and don't turn up to loud or you won't hear the singer's adorable lisp, "like getting hit on the head with cotton candy." And then Mineral, somber, dissonent and boring. Of their tune "If I Could", emo-expert Andy Greenwald said, "the ultimate expression of mid-nineties emo. The song's short synopsis—she is beautiful, I am weak, dumb, and shy; I am alone but am surprisingly poetic when left alone—sums up everything that emo's adherents admired and its detractors detested."

What emo's appeal is/was and what ended up getting it on the charts was the old idea of the "lovable loser." Lot's of people don't feel to good about themselves, and so for them hearing Bo Diddley sing that he is 500% Man didn't make any sense, because they don't feel like they are even 10% man, as evidenced in the emo tendency to wear tight jeans that are cut for a woman's body. I mean, I LOVE wearing tight jeans which accentuate my male feature, so I buy them in the men's section of the South Street vintage store, for I am very cool. What I'm saying is that none of these band's singers are exactly Mick Jaggers and have given up trying. Now I AM Mick Jagger (cerca '65) and like Spider Man, I NEVER give up, so it is not the common man mentality but the ultimate realatability of being in a band in the late nineties and everbody trying to make their own great music without remaking "Love Songs For the Retarded" and some came out better than others. Greenwald highlights the positive, "the pinnacle of its generation of emo: a convergence of pop and punk, of resignation and celebration, of the lure of girlfriends and the pull of friends, bandmates, and the road." He refers to mid-1990s emo as "the last subculture made of vinyl and paper instead of plastic and megabytes." It hurts being on the cusp, unless you don't realize you're there. Or maybe it just hurts remembering when you were cusping and you could still see both sides, before you fell to the inevitable side you're on now. See how emo I am?

But who are we kidding, really? The reason emo broke was that Jimmy Eat World made hands down the poppiest emo record imaginable (followed closely by Saves the Day's "Stay What You Are") with a bonafide pop single. "Bleed American" dropped in the summer of 2001, the exact perfect time, if you catch my drift. Osama bin Laden and George Bush decided, not in conjunction with each other, but because of one another, to take America back down to Year One, and we were all gonna shape ourselves all over again and it was gonna be harder this time becasue all the mirrors are now two-way. And everything you learned about punk rock is at the end of a treasure map written in a now dead language, and let's just say that Joel Tannenbaum ain't gonna help where you're going, young sir. It didn't take me more than a half decade to get out of this Chapel Perilous (with a little help from Daniel Desario), and I think you could ask Bobby Campbell and he'd tell you: Every move a right one. No mistakes, no regrets, cause the best times of my life haven't happened yet. You might listen to "Bleed American" and hate its guts, but put on "A Praise Chorus" and I genuinely smell Autumn nights on campus and feel the crisp air, and the Doctrine of Infinite Possibilities, exponential potential, revolution and romance. And isn't it lovely that two chapters have already been written about you, and isn't it just sublime to be in a new chapter, all together like this? And two times percentage is proof, with little hallucinagenic goldfish swimming electric in the back of your skull, and every day you wake up you might be the real and actual Archie with a Betty and a Veronica and even a fucking JUGHEAD, so no way could you ever be more scared than excited to stand with your toes over the edge looking out into the starry black and did Dashboard Confessional really glamourize heartbreak any more than Dr. Frank?

Emo is a tricky animal, you can listen to it and not even know you're doing it. Some Lifetime sounds like the Gorilla Bisuits but poppier. Some Jimmy Eat World sounds like the Pointed Sticks. It came to describe more than it was, even including pop punk that veered even slightly from the so-called norm. The "emo" songs that I like are linked by the feeling of striving for sentimentality of the moment you are experiencing, and frankly that is something that I am interested in, and it takes a lot of energy, and it takes suspension of disbelief, and you might have to tell yourself stories about yourself which you may realize are impermanent and illusional, and maybe that'll help or hurt you, but I crave personal positive drama, I want to be interested, I want to be happy. Like maybe their exists a recharge, a daily wipe-clean where you could be shocked into action, trigger worded and not everything about you changes but you remember something gloriously essential. All I want is constant euphoria. Is that so much to ask?

The Tao of Boogie

When people begin to identify themselves with a type of music, particularly if it has an accompanying fashion or lifestyle, they get real exclusionary. I should know, outwardly I have portrayed a "punk rock or fuck you" mentality. Blame my upbringing if you must, not by my parents, but the scene I came up in, and my own superiority complex. This is a front, of course, and is in direct violation of my doctrine of infinite possibilities, and my boss would tan my hide if she thought I was for real. The best stuff is always a conglomeration. Sure, the Ramones are the Platonic Form of punk rock and the best band there will ever be, but they are just a mix of the Beach Boys, girl groups, bubblegum and rock and roll (played louder and faster, duh). So if you say "punk rock only, fuck bubblegum" then you are contradicting yourself, and the web gets more tangled with the more statements or commitments you make, and you'll surely end up liking something you don't want yourself to like. One may identify his illusory self as a punk rocker, and anything that threatens that illusion might be combated. Now, I am a hard-ass for what is good, in my opinion, and if it ain't good in my opinion, it ain't good. But blanket statements are for Republicans, and there is a way, a path, a thread of the good that stretches from it's inception in American blues music all the way to me, and is exemplified in the near 17,000 songs in my iTunes, and in my Meta-Pop band the Headies.

1994 featured the perfect storm for Pop Punk music. First and foremost, Kurt Cobain, the lead singer from Nirvana and main figurehead/proprietor of the Grunge branch of Alternative music, had recently blown his brains out. The Northwest branch of Underground music had gotten huge during the Synth-Pop soaked nineteen eighties and from '88-Cobain's suicide had offered, in conjunction with major American recording labels, especially Geffen (in an attempt to be the 1990's answer to Seymour Stein/Danny Fields Era Sire Records), an "alternative" to the obvio-pop of Michael Jackson. But the caveat was that everybody had to take themselves so seriously that the only way out was suicide. I was a tween before that word existed and had some vague recollection of listening to "Never Mind the Bullocks" on a Fisher Price turntable in the previous decade, knew that that was called "punk rock" and that maybe their was something even better than WMMR playing "Ziggy Stardust" if you were lucky. I knew that I liked WOGL, Oldies 98.1 best of all, specifically "Johnny B. Goode", "Walk Like a Man", "Hang On Sloopy", and "Wild Thing". I knew that there was something these songs were offering that not Nirvana, nor any of their contemporaries, from Seattle or Elsewhere, were not. Something melodious and genital oriented.

Grunge and Alternative was originally played by members of Generation-X, in my estimation those born between 1965 and 1976, children of the Baby Boomers, children of divorce and the cold war and feeling sorry for yourself. But then we all became teenagers and he killed himself and were named Generation Next by Bubblegum heroes the Spice Girls and we needed something that sounded happy but indeed was not. Hence the Pop-Punk boom and everything getting (musically) good for a little while before giving way to Emo (Dashboard Confessional, Thursday, Thrice, Jimmy Eat World), Bro-Core (Limp Bizkit, Korn, Rage Against the Machine), and Nuevo-Pop (Brittany Spears (no offense Brittany!), N*Sync, Christina Aguilara, Backstreet Boys). So, I had found the thread of the good and began the process of doing my homework, following it back as far as it would go and examining every fiber along the way. Easier said than done though. For instance, who do you listen to? Not which bands, but which opinions. Plow United was the best of the best West Chester/Wilmington band ever, and those dudes HATED Rancid, but I sure liked 'em! But Sean's dislike probably backed me off of the street punk sub genre and their mascot Tim Armstrong, just a little bit. Rancid's new album "Let the Dominoes Fall" just came out, or is about to, but I've listened to it five or so times and still can't get a grip on it. They milk their blue-collar image with songs for and about military people, people fighting in Iraq or Afghanistan. The opener is a new Rancid classic, be it on well-worn territory, "East Bay Night" is a 10 out of 10, all there great punk song. I still love Tim's vocals, but I can't believe, as I did on the first three Rancid albums, that he is not completely self-aware of his unique mumble-growl delivery. When I thought he just couldn't help it it worked better. That's the downfall of Rancid. "And Out Come the Wolves..." is the masterpiece and all else pales in comparison to that unaware, all-natural, all-real, can't even tell that their trying punk rock record, which Sean Rule hated. It's gotta be hardest on the true believers. I was talking to Dave Wrighteous the other night, bonafide legend in my eyes, taught me so much about punk rock, and I respect and love him very much. Dave is actually extra-spectacular as a dead in the middle member of Generation X who is a no-nonsense punk rocker and always has been. He was telling me how he saw 1994 as a real downturn in Pop Punk, as his favorite bands put out, in his opinion, their worst albums, citing Mr. T Experience's "Love is Dead" and Ben Weasel's then-new The Riverdales first album. These are, of course to me, two of the best albums of all time and my favorite MTX record! It's that kind of quantum criticism that makes the grey areas so crystal clear and possibility reaffirming.

Perhaps the biggest victim of the Pop Punker's (all of us by the way just figure we are straight up punk rockers and the Pop is implied) cool kidness and pariah inflictability is Ska music. Specifically Third Wave Ska became the grandest scapegoat, the red-headed step child of the punk scene. I guess ska zigged when America's youth zagged, the "Let's Go Bowling" sticker came off Joel Tannenbaum's bass, and Operation Ivy (featuring Tim from Rancid, then Lint, duh) became the only acceptable ska-core to listen to. So, like an asshole, I didn't do my homework. So I didn't know there was a reason that OPIV song is called "Sound System". See, in the beginning, the very beginning of ska music, before their were those kinds of bands in Jamaica, big shot impresarios like Duke Reed and Clement Dodd would utilize giant roving sound systems on trucks for mobile dances playing American R & B singles they had shipped in. In this way Jamaican youth got way hip and into the sounds of Black America. In order to maintain the superiority of their own business, these dudes would hire Rude Boys to go screw up their competitors dances, and these disruptors became known as "Dance Hall Crashers" who would three decades later be featured on the Angus Soundtrack along with the best ever Green Day song, "J.A.R." the prospect of hearing which kept me glued to my radio and WDRE 103.9 Modern Rock all summer long. Anyway, ska is another one of those magnificent conglomerations. These Jamaican hip cats had a great knowledge of R & B and even Modern Jazz due to their Sound System heroes and took what they learned, like the twelve bar blues and boogie bass, and mixed it with the indigenous Mento's off-beat syncopated rhythm guitar and piano, playing it faster and louder, and ska music was born.

In 1962 Jamaica regained it's independence from the U.K. and the Jamaican government used ska as a diplomatic tool to represent it's people. And indeed it was the music of the people, heavily infused with the street-level politics of Jamaica as often as it was about gettin' high on ganja or the rub and squeeze. The people referring in part to the original Rude Boys, which like skinhead, ended up being more than one incarnation of ideals. Jamaican Rude Boys were characteristically out of work and reactionary towards economic tensions, rebel kids who emulated American Hollywood gangster movies with black suits, thin ties, and pork pie hats. It is said that the aggression of the Rude Boys and their dance moves drove ska into a more aggressive less boogie driven area. Ska faded in popularity in its native Jamaica and made way for Rocksteady, which reflected the more polished sounds of American Soul being imported at the time, and then to Reggae, but continued popularity abroad, specifically England, with it's large Jamaican population and a British Youth scene in the 1960's that craved that which was hip. At the end of the next decade ska made a comeback in popularity in England, now infused with the still fresh Punk Rock sound. British Ska became known as Two-Tone, due to the British bands emulation of the black and white Rude Boy style as well as the characteristically multiracial line-ups in the genre's bands, like The Beat, The Selector, The Specials, and Bad Manners. It was during this time period that Ska achieved it's ultimate perfect sound, perhaps only topped by Operation Ivy themselves.

OPIV is probably responsible not only for the Third Wave Ska revival but also Pop Punk's elevation as well. I mean, Chrimpshrine wasn't gonna be the band. the Dead Kennedy's and Black Flag and Minor Threat could never do what OPIV did, pave the way for good clean punk, guaranteed to stick. but really that's just part of the thread. It's interesting how much of an umbrella term punk has become. It's been argued that the only true punk bands would be the CBGB's guys and their British prodigies. And certainly ska happened in the 1960's and was revived in the late seventies and early nineties, due to it's close proximity to the ideals and temperaments of punk rock fans. Tied closely with the two is Mod. Mods in England were many of them ska fans, and the Mod Revival correlated with the Ska revival, but like punk, can you really be Mod if you aren't existing in mid-1960's England? No. Can you really be rock and roll if you aren't existing in the mid 1950's? Probably not either, but that's not really a bad thing. You're something more than any of those, you're a conglomeration. By existing within the Tao of Boogie and fully living and breathing American Blues, R and B, Rock and Roll, Ska, Soul, Girl Groups, British Invasion, Mod, American Garage, Bubblegum, Punk, 2-Tone, Hip Hop, Underground, Pop Punk, and especially the Hyper Pop manifestos of Lady Gaga, you are the new hip, not the what's next, the what's now.

F@%k You Critics!! or On Criticism

No matter what artistic field you're in, if you do it long enough, someone is going to criticize you for it. Maybe you'll get some "constructive criticism," the kind where the critic isn't after you, and in fact probably likes you, but wants to help you do better. Most likely though, you'll get someone telling you that your music's bad and you should feel bad. These day, playing punk rock is illegal. That is, it is uh-hip. They want everything scaled back and solid, and heaven help you if you like simple chord progressions played with power chords. So, it would be pretty idiotic to actually solicit reviews, knowing they're gonna be negative, right? Well, when you really are DIY, and the "Y" actually mean "yourself," sometimes soliciting reviews is a good way to get publicity. Advertising is expensive, and any random review we get is crucial to our highly successfull press machine, locally, nationwide, globally and into the uni- and multiverses. Back when I started in 1994, it was pretty safe to send your stuff out, Green Day was at the top of the charts and the Ramones were at their most appreciated. Maybe most importantly Tim Yohannon was still alive. I read a eulogy for him in 1998 when he died of cancer which stated, at it's most believable, that punk rock was finally dead. It compared punk rock to Latin, and Tim Yo it's last native speaker. Punk rock became scholarly, and most people couldn't keep up. What's more, many people became disillusioned, feeling punk rock ultimately didn't offer them everything they needed. They mistook specific content for general flexibility, selling the music short, underestimating it, or, in a sinister way, outgrowing it, discarding their velveteen vynil. But before that teenage America 1995 was riding that leather wave to heartbreak beach, and my first round of public criticism of my first band was pretty freakin' positive. My first real band was Ninja Attak - me, Brendan "Huffer" Huffman, and Mike Cruz. Our first seven inch record was called "My First Time" and was on Bill Kate's Trickshot Records.

Tim Yo's MRR luke-warmed us, "Ultra girl-obsessed pop-core. Ah, pop-core: a word I'll never have to use again, even though thy're competent at the pop-core genre and writing pop-core songs and all." (PC) Pretty alright, but the reviewer actually did use the word pop-core in two other reviews that month." Tim Yo personally chose the cover for the side bar too!

Larry Livermore's Punk Planet gave us two reviews! "This makes me think of the late eighties in pop-punk. Seven songs crammed on a seven inch, cheap mastering, all songs about girls. Think about Brent's TV or any other early lookout band. I really actually liked this record alot. Kind of brought me back and remembered a different time. I suspect these kids are fairly young. I hope so, they sing about girls with braces (in her mouth, not to match her boots, oi)." (EA) Yeah, see that dude got it. Very importantly, he was gonna like it no matter what, he liked punk rock. I flip to be compared to Brent's TV...

The same month, the same record could have gotten into the hands of a Neurosis or Locust fan and they would have torn us apart. You never know whose gonna be asked to write you up. In the same issue, "They sound like every other "pop-punk" band on earth, but Ninja Attak has something that sets them apart. Perhaps it is the vocals, I am not sure. But is you are into this realm of music, by George, buy this!" (MD) An excellent review! It doesn't gush and admits that it is merely a pop-punk record, but the guy reviews it as such! This kind of journalism is not really around today.

Finally, the notorious hardcore mag HeartAttak even liked us, "Seven short songs of punk and hardcore, all with that early eighties feel. A good dose of melodic punk is also thrown in there. The energy level is quite high. It just trucks through, with no let up, good record." (Thrashead) See, was that so hard? It gives you an idea of what it is, doesn't oversell, is honest, etc...

Soon Ninja Attak did a split seven inch with the Crash, and MRR had this to say, "What we have here is two very scrappy bands doing rough-around-the-edges style pop punk. Both play fast and sloppy, and sing off key more times than not, but in a way, that is their charm. The cheese factor that seems to be a pre-requisite for pop punk these days is nowhere to be found. It's simply honest, aggresive music reflecting these folks' everyday hopes, dreams, and frustrations. I'm completely taken in with this EP's charm. There are two songs from each band, the Ninja Attak side being more chaotic and snotty, the Crash side more gruff. And don't let the horrible 5th grade style cover art scare you away. This rocks." (BG) Ha! That sould never happen today! That record would be destroyed! By the way, the fifth grade art comment caused drummer/cover artist Mike Cruz to chuck the mag across Father Gilborgess' social something or other class.

Hmmm... next I was in Power of IV. We made two records, one which got released, the other of which is newly available for digital dowload at http://www.madisonundergroundpress.com/, but I guess we never sent them for review. I musta been pretty secure! Chances are that we would have been media darlings, everybody liked Power of IV. No joke, everybody.

Next came Endless Mike Jambox, so far the ultimate in mixed reviews, still recieving them about our CD, "Another Hot Freshy-Freshy" four years after it's completion. MaxRock loved it! "These Delaware folks have a cool amateur punk thing going on. This reminds me of a mix of LATTERMAN and WESTON. Another Hot Freshy-Freshy is a strong full-length that is sure to make my yearly top ten with its good variety of pop, punk, and fun indie." (P$) Sure 'nuff, we were right on the ol' top ten and getting orders as we speak.

Now, over in Razorcake, about the same record, they say, "Almost equal parts of a watered-down, slowed-down version of Lifetime and a Drive-Thru band without the turd polish. I don’t know what the band name means, but I think the album title means a steaming pile of shit." (Vincent Battilana) Ha! Nearly Spinal Tap-esque, huh? Oppinions being what they are, I can only really say that this dude, wouldn't have liked the record on any day, but atoms in the void directed it into his grubby mitts, so the review stands! Horrible work though, no effort, no style, not even funny. Probably should stick to reviewing music in his head, but he's not the worst, oh no!

Finally on the Jambox, we got a beuatiful write up from http://www.lawngnomedeathmarch.com/ that completely paints a picture. I don't agree one-hundred percent, but the positive effort is worth all the knowledge in the world.

"Do you remember that guy in high school with the tall green or blue mohawk who always wore is Docs or Cons; dirty and tight blue jeans; and always seemed to be wearing a Crass, Ramones, or Business T-shirt? Remember how he always bashed people who listened to bands like Blink 182, MxPx, or Sum 41? Remember how he was such a huge douche-bag? Well? Do you? I know I remember that guy. Well, this is the same guy who would secretly go home throw on his new Hurley shirt and Dickies shorts that mommy bought him, and skank around his room while blasting MxPx. He would then ponder life while listening to Blink 182's "Adams Song". Yep, we all knew someone like this in high school with there more punk-than-thou attitude. The reason I bring this up is due to this band, Endless Mike Jambox. If they were around while I was in high school this stupid punk fuck and I might have been able to find a happy little medium when it came to 'punk' music.In most reviews I would half-ass-ly attempt to go into a bit of detail about each song but since they had ten songs I've decided not to do so this time. What I will do is talk a bit about the band.I was immediately impressed when I went to the bands website and saw that I would be able to listen to ten of their songs. I was even more impressed when I actually listened to their music. Endless Mike Jambox flawlessly combines the ferocity of east coast hardcore, the poppy sound of So-Cal punk, and the Down and Dirty attitude of old-school punk. They then wrap it all up and top it with a shiny red bow."Tonight I'm gonna get fucked up. Tonight I'm gonna be a slut..." This is a line from their song 'The Karl Konnection' and I feel it aptly sums up what this band does for me. Endless Mike Jambox envokes long-lost memories form high school; the parties, the drinking, the shows, the hot chicks who wouldn't give me the time of day. What guy in school didn't want to get fucked up and be a slut? Really now, because you all know that you thought this. This band's music really seems to reflect the feelings of youth. Shit, I'm 24 and I still feel this band speaking to the high-schooler in me.The music is poppy but not so much where you can throw them directly into the pop-punk genre. It is just enough to allow you to sing to it. The band's music provides catchy but well-written lyrics, strong hooks, strong vocal ability, and great composition. The music is, for a lack of better words, happy sounding.Endless Mike Jambox are the band you'd want to play at your party, they're the band that you wish would get radio play, they the band you listen to while driving around with friends. Quite simply they're the band that you'd create memories with.Although, they aren't the Clash, I'll still give them 4 out of 5 stars."

So, I currently play in the Headies and Tit Patrol, both of which have CD's out, and both of which can't seem to buy a good review! Tit Patrol's "Shut Up Juice" has fared slightly better, International Punk & Hardcore (www.punk-hardcore.info) said, "American uptempo pop-punk, along the lines of THE RAMONES and THE QUEERS. They also sound a lot like many of those early LOOKOUT! records bands. The songs are short, which is cool, and overall the music’s pretty good. I just have no idea what the lyrics are about. Girls it seems?" (Y.B.)

And that numb-nuts over at Jersey Beat said, "There is little expected when opening up an album called "Shut up Juice" by a band called Tit Patrol. Of course, this only helps their cause because without any lofty expectations it can hopefully only be better than expected. Queers-like lyrics that you can actually understand (clearly with songs like "Butt Foot", "Daily Lobotomy", and "Surfin’ Suzey"), chanted choruses, and a little bit of speed. It’d be easy to discard this band as another novelty – a group of ridiculous teenagers who have nothing to offer. While it’s true that they aren’t doing anything particularly new they are doing it better than many other bands who they are emulating. "Candy Not Cops" is the sort of song that could win over any teenager with a sense of humor, and "One of my moods" shows that they can write some pretty clever lyrics with some pretty innovative songwriting too. It’s also absolutely embarrassing and adorable that they spelled ‘you’re’ and ‘rhythm’ incorrectly. It reminds me of high school and falling in love with punk rock music. Not too shabby for a band named Tit Patrol."

Alright, the new coup de gras, from Razorcake, "How can you go wrong with a name like Tit Patrol? Let me count the ways! Awful, regurgitated song themes (heroin addiction, lobotomies)? Check! Tired harmonies for backing vocals? Check again! Boring riffage? Check thrice!! Uninspired delivery? Quadruple check! The problem with fifth and sixth generation Ramones rip off bands, among which Tit Patrol can count themselves, is that they’re not ripping off the Ramones at all, but the third and fourth generation Ramones rip off bands. The formula is so diluted by the time Tit Patrol gets its hands on it that there’s no possible way anything remotely listenable can come of it. It’s all of the worst aspects of ‘90s pop punk burned onto a CD and pushed out the anus of the underground. There is some other stuff going on here, namely the use of Suicidal Tendencies and Adam Sandler for inspiration on the opening track, which, in the case of Mr. Sandler, should never, ever happen. If I want to listen to a Ramones rip off band, I’ll stick with those who do it right. Gimme the Queers! Gimme the Riverdales! Gimme Head!" (Josh Benke) Whoo! But, did you like it? Ha!

It is really easy to tell when someone is reviewing a record and when they've got a bug up their butt. The Headies and our "It's a Super-Man's World" have gotten it the worst, though International Punk & Hardcore wasn't too hard on us, "It seems MADISON UNDERGROUND is specializing in pop-punk bands, cos this is another American band that sounds like they could be on LOOKOUT, HONEST DON’S, etc. The sound quality is good, they cover THE RAMONES and ANGRY SAMOANS… but where’s the lyric sheet??" (Y.B.) Dude is French so he can't understand us, but he knows more about punk rock than someone from, oh I don't know, New Jersey?

In Jersey Beat, douchebag comments, "Straight forward rock and roll leaning towards punk rock vocally featuring Tit Patrol’s guitarist and bassist. They're trying for humor, I think, although they don't do too well on the terrifically un-funny "That’s All I Need" about smoking weed. It’s unfortunate because the music on songs like "Not a Heartbreaker No Mo" and "High on Drugs" is catchy, but the lyrics are a little too true on the latter when he says:"I’m just a loser in this big life game". Stick to Tit Patrol, fellas." (Andrew Fersch) This is a rewrite. In his first review, he lambasted us for the use of the word "fag" in the title track. That word is, OF COURSE, not there. The line is, "It's a Super-Man's world and the rest are fucking fads." I got into it with him via e-mail, telling him to call me a loser all you want (even if he's the first), but call me a homophobe and I'll drive up to Jersey and kick your fag ass. He apologized and ran that watered down version.

The Headies have reviews pending in MaxRock, Razorcake, and other places, and I don't know if I wanna even see 'em. There are just so many people out there who wanna tell you that you aren't Joey Ramone. They know less, they feel less, yet they are heard more, and centrally. No matter how much bad criticism I recieve, I know it pales in comparison to what the Ramones themselves actually had said about them, and they didn't even have the Ramones to look to for inspiratation! I'll never have as many bad things said about me as Kathy Griffin, Barack Obama, or Pat Burrell, but I feel for and with them, for you can only do two pro-active things in the face of criticism: ignore it or own it. I OWN!!