Dear (See Below) Bands,
I love your music. Love, love, love. But can you maybe try to be a little less annoying? It makes it so hard to defend you when I tell my friends about my favorite artists. Actually, it makes it hard to admit to anyone that you happen to be one of them. And I want to make them like you, really, I do. But like that friend who has a minor character flaw that now pisses you off enough that you really can’t see the good in her anymore, I’m finding it difficult to enjoy your music knowing how annoying you are.
Here are some heart-to-heart tips from your loving (secret) admirer to be a little less annoying and a little more rock and roll.
Fall Out Boy
You always have a spot in my 6-CD player in my car. Sugar, you’ll never go down on the playlist for me if you continue to make some of the sweetest pop punk music out there. But please, Pete Wentz, I’m begging you – cut your hair, lay off the eyeliner and put on a damn shirt when you are on a magazine cover. You need to settle down – you play bass. And, um, you have a kid?
Also, Patrick, can you please enunciate your song lyrics so I can actually sing along and not just randomly open my mouth while humming the tune to look like I know what I’m singing? And what’s up with the weird syntax and bizzare punctuation in the song titles? Thnks Fr Th Confusn. I mean, e.e. Cummings was a legit poet, while you’re just… an antithesis of all semblance of reason. And grammar. My English teacher highly disapproves.
“I’m with you” on how most of your songs are about girl problems to which every teenager can relate. And I love how you have other gigs too, like co-writing “Breakaway” for Kelly Clarkson and even recording The Spongebob Squarepants Movie theme song (my little bro totally agrees). But I’m pretty sure that hot pink hair, combat boots, and thick-enough eyeliner to paint a mural were out of fashion like 10 years ago. You remind me of the wanna-be punk-rocker chicks at my old high school who stood in their corner by the snack machine and talked about how “complicated” their life was and how their parents didn’t understand them. You’re married now, for goodness sakes, so do your husband a favor and stop wearing pink angel wings and acting like a “sk8er boi.” Oh, and learn how to play the guitar for real. You’re kinda getting “under my skin.”
The first time I heard “Clocks,” it changed my life. And continued to do so for the 100 times I listened to it on repeat afterward. You should even see my wall – there’s a giant banner that shouts, “viva la vida,” my adopted mantra para mi vida. But enough with the same gloomy, sad looks while you play haunting, heart-wrenching melodies on the piano, Chris Martin. I’m wondering if you’re able to play some different chord progressions as well, since you only seem to stick to one particular one on every. single. bloody. song. Can we maybe change it up a bit, with chords and tempos and basically not have the same harmonic patterns last throughout the whole album? Or four? Keep the accent though, please. Oh, and tell Gwyneth to lose the GOOP.
My friend saw you in concert in Japan, and just like her, I must say: I’m “addicted” to your music. In a “perfect world,” I would hang out with you guys all day and do crazy stuff like dye the neighbor’s pool yellow or something, because, let’s face it, “I’m just a kid.” You seem like a bunch of cool, fun kids just making music because you can, and I love that about you. But unfortunately, you kinda remind me of blink182. But not in a middle-school-memories, emo-phase, dress-like-a-punk, nostalgic sort of way. More like a trying-a-little-too-hard, bad-album-titles, life-is-so-unfair-let’s-cry-about-it sort of way. Skateboarding is a sport, not a prop, and yelling at your parents on a rooftop in the pouring rain? Effective, but kinda cheesy I must say. Maybe there’s a reason you’re “still not getting any”…
My guilty pleasure of all things guilt-full and pleasurable is “See You Again.” It’s on my workout playlist, my clubbing/dance-party playlist, and my blasting-in-the-car playlist. To the point where I’m headbanging and screaming out the lyrics with my girlfriends, and looking like a mad woman to the car next to us. But oh mah gah. There is so much advice and wisdom I wish to impart upon you that’s long enough to last a whole Oprah episode. You’re obviously not as big as a band, but your ego is big enough compete with one. Can you please act your age and stop dating older men that are probably not into you and more into your…assets? And stop taking those trashy MySpace pictures that even my 12 year old cousin knows not to take? You’re probably one of the reasons sexting is such a problem these days among teens. Or maybe just why television shows are going down the drain. Whatever happened to old Disney classics like Even Stevens and Sister, Sister? Dump the TV show and the drama queen act and just behave more like the role model you’re supposed to be for young girls. Then I won’t be so embarrassed when someone sees you on (every single one of) my iPod playlists.
Your (Not-So-Secret-Anymore) Admirer