To quote Dennis Miller, I don't want to get off on a rant here but...

...is it just me or is Yellowcard's album Ocean Avenue a perfect summation of how bland and just plain bad that the pop-punk (some may say "emo") genre has become?

Let's start with the single that has helped this band break into the top 40 and score a gold certification in the process, the title track. The song's arrangement finds simple rippling chords being played over a simple drumbeat and a lack of bass that rips the underbelly of the song out from under itself. This is followed by a breezy chorus that is delivered with "passion" and lyrics that are about as deep as President Shrub when he doesn't have a script in front of him.

But wait, this band is different say the usual defenders of crappy rock music (I'd like to make clear that that sentence does not refer to people on this particular site). They have a violin in their songs, that's so punk rock, because after all, what's more punk rock than having a violin?

You know what's no longer punk rock? Doing stuff that supposedly isn't punk rock as proof that you are punk rock. This started with doing bad covers of popular 1980s pop songs (mostly new wave tracks), and has expanded in recent years to include just about everything. Quite frankly, this album would be more bearable (key word: bearable, not enjoyable) without the violin, because most times, I feel like kicking Sean Mackin (the dude playing it), and Tom Lord-Alge (the dude who mixed the record) in the balls for putting it so far up front in the mix that it overshadows every other part of the collective group.

The album's opening two songs aren't so bad, not so much because of the lyrics, which are generally crappy and juvenile the whole way through, but because at least the music is played with some power and it has a bit of an edge. Way Away is a wash of power chords and some somewhat impressive drumming laid down by Longineu Parsons III. I think the other part of the song that I really like is the fact that the violins don't show up for the first couple of minutes, meaning I'm able to at least nod along before I feel like tearing my hair out. Breathing is written like a Dashboard Confessional song, with its "heartbreaking" lyrics and tale of "love gone wrong." Thankfully, the music isn't bad, at least not until the violin once again kicks in.

There are times where it appears the band is looking to move beyond their more generic roots. For example, View From Heaven is a mix of jangly guitar pop (we'll forget that it's a near note for note rip off of the melody from Jill Sobule's I Kissed a Girl) and pop-country that at the very least has room in its arrangement for a violin riff, which I can't say for the other songs on the record. And Empty Apartment starts off as a nice melodic ballad, before morphing into a power ballad that misses the mark, thanks to the swirling power chords and out of place drum pounding.

For those who want more of that "fun" pop-punk that the title track promised, there is some of that as well. Life of a Salesman , an ode to fathers that wouldn't be entirely terrible except for the fact that every single f*cking line ends in "dad," which just goes to show how "creative" this band is. How brilliant to end every line in a song about fatherhood with "dad." This must be blowing John Lennon's mind in heaven, because anyone who says this is blowing anything else is just a "mean poopy pants" who "has no life."

Amazingly, the lyrical genius doesn't end there though, no sirree Bob. TwentyThree rhymes twenty-three and me, in quite possibly the most genius rhyming couplet of the year. It's rivaled only by Miles Apart, which manages to actually rhyme 'apart,' 'heart,' and 'start,' in one stretch. What songwriting talent this Ryan Key has, the ability to write about the same damn thing over and over and over again. Hell, Fred Durst made a career out of it, why can't Key?

One Year, Six Months is extremely reminiscent of Green Day's Time of Your Life, though I must say I'm surprised that Yellowcard is the first to really ape that song this well, given the hit it was. The album closing Back Home starts off with a nice melody, but the song soon moves into generic pop-punk ballad territory. If Key had any vocal range at all, he might be able to make this song somewhat memorable, but instead, it might be the most instantly forgettable song on the record. Who knows, maybe Key at least did the guys in Simple Plan proud...

Ending up as a drink coaster isn't a good enough fate for each copy of this disc. The liner notes, which contains all the "brilliant" lyrics for these songs, could be used as an emergency tampon for Rosie O'Donnell and somehow, even that fate wouldn't seem cruel enough.

About the only good thing about this disc is that I'm pretty sure an edited copy (without the opening two songs) is in hell right now, being played on repeat for Adolf Hitler and Mohammed Atta's "enjoyment."

I recommend this album for 14 year olds who don't have older siblings to guide them into something better, and people too lazy to actually go out and find a decent band worth your hard earned cash. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make my own good use of the liner notes...

Alright MA, I'll be out of the bathroom in a minute!




Recommended: No