Oh Baby, You’re a Classic, Like a Little Black Dress

You know that feeling when you’ve met someone new and you’re excited and apprehensive and totally petrified. But then something happens…it can be really simple like a hand being grabbed or a first, totally mind-numbing kiss…You get fucking butterflies in regions lower than your stomach…and you feel airy and light because in that moment everything is just how you wish it could be eternally. Ok, well that’s the best way I can describe the new Fall Out Boy album. Haters should stop reading now as I review it in all its emo, heart entrenching, yet ironically comical, narcissistic, melodramatic and beautifully eclectic entirety.

As far as the sound goes it’s classic FOB – but I’d say slightly more aged, mature and complex than their most previous release – Infinity On High. This is exemplified in their list of guests who appear on the album, mostly people I don’t care about, but who if nothing else prove that the band has reached some sort of pinnacle as far as the music community is concerned by pulling out big names like that…although personally all I hear and all I want to hear is Patrick Stump’s muttonchomped face, harmonized, falsetto chords singing me to sleep or making me dance around the lab as he sings about amphetamines over funky horns in “20 Dollar Nose Bleed.” Yeah the album’s totally rich, it’s obviously a foundation of rock with mixes or punk, medley ballads, beat poetry, and brass components. It’s just overall bad assssssssssssss.

And the thing about FOB is that for an emo band they don’t do a lot of whining or crying. They make an ironic stance sometimes when it comes to this, as Rolling Stone points out in the album’s opening song, “Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes (BEST SONG NAME EVER that makes no sense) the lyrics go – “Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy”, and sometimes they’re self-absorbed, and sometimes they are sad and angst ridden or even funny, “My head’s in Heaven/My soles are in Hell/Let’s meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well,” and they’re always punny.

And to me it feels like every little three line or sometimes even three word chorus is empathic in that it feels like a zillion emotions nicely condensed into a few words. The album title is a perfect example, “Folie a Deux,” which describes the insanity of one person that is exacerbated many fold when complexed with the insanity of another. And even when the empathy is of the order of emo or sad, it has a funny uplifting way about it, like a protective, self-deprecating joke.

Bottom line, even if Pete Wentz has his own stop on the douchebag express I don’t care what you think! As Long as…No, no i’m not gonna go there…Folie a Deux is in fact happiness without the misery…there…i went there…


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January 2009
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