Fall Out Boy
Nutritionally speaking, this is junk food. It’s a luke-warm, processed Macdonalds’ burger designed to immediately disintegrate after swallowing, leaving you feeling unfulfilled and craving more. Coincidentally it also contains more than its fair share of ground up faecal matter.
“This Ain’t a Scene…” is 3:32 your life will never forgive you for wasting. It’s the illusion of music. A cut-n-shut of composite parts, cynically slung together in the wallets of a hundred Mercury Records mortgage-paying executives.
Is the title vaguely political? Who cares!? Relying on Fall Out Boy for your political subversion is like relying on the Daily Sport for your current affairs. It’s the sanitised tip of a childish, sloganeering, rebellion-lite, protruding above the horrendous vending-machine-fresh backing track of the music.
“This Aint a Scene…” sounds like The Backstreet Boys in places. It sounds like Britney Spears in places. The vocals are so heavily auto-tuned you wonder if he’d even heard the song when he sang it. The guitars are so tokenistic as to force Les Paul himself to question exactly what he has achieved in his life.
This is not rock music. This is barely music.
Leave it alone.>Chris Cusack
