WRITTEN

ross haenfler STRAIGHT EDGE: CLEAN-LIVING YOUTH, HARDCORE PUNK, AND SOCIAL CHANGE by SHANA HURLEY MELISMAreviews

The “academicization” of punk rock is dangerous territory upon which to tread. One doesn’t need a Ph.D to interpret the social context of “Anarchy in the UK,” for example. As The Ramones’ simplified three-chord structures and declarative lyrical styling have demonstrated in the appearance of generations of their emulators and imitators, punk needn’t be “smart.” Whether you’re 16 and “screaming at a wall” with Minor Threat or 18 and “rising above” with some help from Black Flag, punk rock is relatable because it’s direct, fast, and, often, as angry as you are. It is decidedly unacademic. Despite the context, Ross Haenfler, an Assistant Professor of Sociology and Social Movements at the University of Mississippi, Ole Miss, has developed an academic study of the contemporary straight edge movement in his 2006 Straight Edge: Clean-Living Youth, Hardcore Punk, and Social Change. As the book jacket declares, it is the “first in-depth sociological analysis of the movement,” and Haenfler catalogues the results of formal and informal interviews into a cohesive document. The result is a definition of straight edge, an introduction to its social achievements and fallbacks, and the application of a simultaneously personal and theoretical approach. Using the diction of his discourse, Haefler analyzes the straightedge movement within hardcore punk through a sociological lens.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is Haenfler’s decision to include his personal narrative. He opens Straight Edge with an explanation for his choice to adopt the straight edge lifestyle, in the context of his youth spent in Rapid City, S.D. He continually weaves in anecdotes from his participation in the Denver, Colo. hardcore scene. The personalization provides a contrast to his attempts at putting an academic spin on the movement. In this way, Haenfler’s biggest strength is his commitment to authenticity. Right from the cover of the book, which features a picture of Pat Flynn of Have Heart X’ed up in a sea of enthusiastic fans, the reader is aware that this is a legitimate document, produced by an ally instead of an outsider. Haenfler’s approach is comprehensive: he breaks his thesis into a series of chapters, each demonstrating individual studies, which show impressive breadth and depth. Though many sections do not reveal anything particularly new, he takes the time to use an academic approach. For example, he establishes and fully proves how straight edge qualifies as a social movement and collective identity. To be fair, he criticizes the straight edge community for its exclusivity in regards to gender and homosexuality while also highlighting its valuable ability to construct communities for its ideological adherents. In another section, he addresses the tension between “positivity” and “militancy,” profiling the characteristics of each type and the oscillating historical dominance of each group within straight edge’s history. Tying hypermasculinity and “crew” behavior into militancy, Haenfler reinforces his discussion of the simultaneous inclusiveness and exclusivity of straight edge. This theme, considered during multiple discussions of gender’s role in the hardcore scene, permeates his study.

The most interesting chapter – perhaps because I personally relate to it 26

– addresses issues of “Life after straight edge.” He covers those who pick up drinking, drugs and sexual promiscuity. However, he also discusses those who maintain accordance with straight edge beliefs, even though their participation within the hardcore scene has ebbed. In doing so, he characterizes two important portraits of stereotypical behaviors within the straight edge scene while also developing the complexity of others’ individual relationships with straight edge. It is when Haenfler interviews his peers that his sociological hypotheses reach the level of sophistication I desired to find in his analyses. His own testimony and the agonizingly honest reflections of other interviewees develop the strongest proof of his thesis, underscoring that straight edge is a social movement with lasting implications.

On the other hand, despite its potency, Haenfler’s personal involvement also poses methodological problems. He cites informal interviews, conversations in which he (assumedly) engaged in with friends. Though these are clearly important aspects of his research, his immersion experience poses a challenge to his reliability as a witness. For example, he admits that his documentation waned as he grew older and less personally involved in the scene. This enhances the personal aspect of his narrative but weakens his ability to supply the reader with a fluent, comprehensive study. His personal involvement prevents him from separating straight edge from the hardcore community, leading him to interchange both too casually. To compensate, at times, he over-emphasizes the formality of the interview. When addressing the methodology of his analysis of sexism, he goes too far to prove that he has established a comfortable, professional setting that would offset any consequences of his inherent Y-chromosome masculinity. At times, his academic definitions read like a high school research paper, laboriously paraphrased from upper-level readings. He sometimes struggles to find the balance between academic professionalism and personal passion.

Additionally (and most frustratingly), Haenfler’s personal engagement in the hardcore community creates a challenge for him when deciding upon his audience. At times, Straight Edge clearly reads as directed to the owners of Chung King Can Suck It albums and Earth Crisis varsity jackets. Other times, such as when he addresses the history of the movement, it seems like he misses an ignorant target while also aiming well below any sort of knowledge audience. If Haenfler aims to provide a document like Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, which has educated countless fans fortunate enough to stumble upon its welcoming prose, he has not succeeded. On the other hand, if Haenfler’s target audience already has a base awareness about important milestones in the movement, he has provided a sincere and comprehensive supplement that will complement even noted scene grandfathers. Although Haenfler’s demands on the reader’s awareness of hardcore music and history do not always pair well with his demands for comprehension of sophisticated diction, the anecdotes and reflections are personal enough to break through the academia to resonate personally. Despite these detractions, Straight Edge is still a milestone. To my knowledge, it is absolutely the first academic look at straight edge, and at hardcore in particular. It uses a mixture of authentic academia and pertinent culture, aptly quoting from each discipline. The curious alliance of sociology and classic hardcore lyrics and imagery has challenged my self-constructed boundaries that dictate that hardcore and school must be different; instead, by engaging both spheres, Haenfler succeeds in producing something quite special. Straight Edge isn’t for everyone, but it shouldn’t be overlooked, either. 

by AMANDA BROWER THIS TOO WILL PASS (Dangerbird) the one am radio

Hrishikesh Hirway and Jane Yakowitz have been releasing records of their ethereal beats and lyrics since 2000. Somehow, though, listening to The One AM Radio’s aural dreamscapes still has that magical ability to make you feel as if you’re the only one who’s aware of their existence, like having some fantastic secret and all the power and torn feelings that come with it. Do you share your discovery with everyone you know and gain celebrity for being the originator of cool? Or do you keep it hush-hush so you can continue making yourself believe that no one else would ever appreciate it quite like you?

I got my first sampling of The One AM Radio’s hazy, pillowesque songs back in 2003 and I’ve been indulging myself with them ever since. Each album, from 2000’s A Cloud’s Fear of Kites EP to 2004’s A Name Writ In Water, has carried me on rolling waves of sweet melancholy and dipped me again and again into a welcomed state of cathartic, meandering self-meditation. Even On the Shore of the Wide World, 2005’s offering of remixed versions of some of the band’s most outstanding songs, stayed loyal to The One AM Radio sound, despite collaboration with equally independent, uniquelydriven artists such as Daedelus and John Tejada. Listening to The One AM Radio has always felt like being trusted with a quietly and tentatively-divulged admission. The personal quality of Hirway’s soft singing, combined with the nostalgic wailing of both an oft-featured musical saw and Yakowitz’s violin, make for an emotional experience – one that is fantastically crushing and reassuring all at once. Crushing, because it forces you to realize that all of your so-called life-altering moments have been lived before, and reassuring, because someone else is singing about them, is living and feeling in tune with you. The worn poignancy of most every song – all of which manage to trick you into believing, even for just a fleeting moment, that Hirway is seeking your shoulder rather than offering you one to rest upon – is so poetically perfect and resounding that, when listening, one can only shiver with the haunting thought that, just maybe, you’ve been granted the delicious treat of someone else’s thoughts lain more intimately bare than usually offered. But with This Too Will Pass, the band’s latest endeavor, I’ve found my expectations met with a watered-down response. Sure, I can still count on hitting play and finding myself swathed in a cloak of hushed harmonies, nostalgic reflections and obscured visions, but there’s something lacking. Meandering verges on pedantic and the echoing sorrow of Hirway’s wondrous voice has dissolved into a ghostly pitch of spent sentiment. Comprised of a set of songs that traces the disintegration of a relationship and what’s to come, The One AM Radio’s new album seems like it’s seeking a sadness that’s no longer there. Singing and sighing that once managed to elicit tears at a public concert from a born-and-bred, cold-blooded Bostonian like myself (or maybe it was just tears of relief that the group wailing about an elephant-electrocuted-byEdison-for-the-sake-of-the-invention-of-electricity was exiting the stage, but I doubt it) now fails to touch as deeply within me.

It’s elements such as the just-too-loud, unvarying strumming of a guitar throughout most of “In the Time We’ve Got,” and the nearly constant, tinny drumbeat that’s introduced in the first chorus of ‘You’ve got the city in you…’ that overpower Hirway’s understatedly emotive singing. The song ends nicely with a full section of soaring instrumentals, but it doesn’t make up for the addition of bland, predictable beats preceding it. In the following track, “Lest I Forget,” Hirway’s singing is once again reduced by instrumentals that appear to have been bolstered to disguise that quality of sincerity missing from the vocals. The song is marked by a sluggish, predictable tempo that numbs more than excites the ear and words enunciated in a dulled, flat manner. Whether this dullness stems from feelings of defeat or detachment is irrelevant to the fact that it makes listening to Hirway’s voice wearisome.

Overall, save for the first minute and forty-two seconds of “The Echoing Airports,” the one part of This Too Will Pass that seems to purposefully deviate from The One AM Radio’s traditional style of lush folk-electronica, the rest of the album fails to either stick to the formula or improvise upon it in a worthwhile way. The rhythm of the songs is generally predictable and boring, causing the album, as a whole, to lose a little bit of its shimmer. Some portions of instrumentals even remind me of Jack Johnson or other acoustic hippie artists – comparisons I’d rather not be making.

Perhaps I should congratulate Hirway for finally overcoming that sadness which so entrenched his previous endeavors, but I could only congratulate him grudgingly, if even that. Because, well, now that his songs have ceased to be so sad, Hirway doesn’t hold the same, sadistic appeal for me as when I could rely on him to wallow with me in contemplation of human flaw and life’s messiness. And, because that (dare I say it) emo hint to his words really struck me as inherent to their beauty.

The One AM Radio will always be the secret I cherish, except now it’s a secret spread. The core of its essence remains, but its shell has changed. Something that’s perfect can’t be expected to stay perfect forever, which is part of the reason why I wish this album hadn’t been created at all. It’s not so much that This Too Will Pass is such a travesty to the history of music – because it’s far from that – but more that it doesn’t stand up to the high standards The One AM Radio has cultivated for itself over the years. Do you stop making music when it ceases to be good, or do you stop making music when it’s so good that it’s teetering precariously on the edge of never been as good again? Ideally, The One AM Radio would have subtly faded away after the release of On the Shore of the Wide World, just as the band’s songs blip and fuzz into silence in a way that leaves you feeling whole and alright with their ending, like the sensation of lusting a little to recall a fading dream, but content enough to let it dissolve into vague memory. 

by JESSE KOHN THE WAY THE WIND BLOWS (Leaf) a hawk and a hacksaw MELISMAreviews

Jeremy Barnes is a living instrument. As his fingers race across the keys of his accordion, his feet pound pedals, producing the band’s primary percussion section with the inverted snares and tom drums that litter the floor around him. He wears a hat with bells on it, a drumstick crudely taped to the top. During crescendos he throws his head towards the symbol next to him, sending a reverberating crash above the intricate, complex violin and accordion lines. Adjacent to Barnes, Heather Trost, having attained near perfection of her instrument, plays the violin as though it is an extension of herself, with the ease and grace of speaking, or breathing.

I remember first seeing the band play in a tiny café at the College of Santa Fe. My friends and I had recently discovered Balkan gypsy music and we spent our spring nights inflating the pollen-filled air with brass, accordions, and strings; Fanfare Ciocarlia, The Boban Markovic Orkestar and The Kocani Orkestar. The sounds were exotic and new, romantic, distant and timeless. A Hawk and a Hacksaw realized our fantasies - two real gypsies on the stage before us. The energy that flowed from them pulsed through the audience, and within moments, the crowd, much too large for the small space, was entranced. Our pounding feet mirrored Barnes’ thumping bass, and the rattles on his feet made echoes of our claps. Trost smiled, and motioned for the first few rows to join them onstage. There was a communal feel about the show, as though we were all celebrating something.

Although the band’s two prior albums are beautiful and hypnotizing in their own right, A Hawk and a Hacksaw’s most recent release, The Way the Wind Blows, is the first to capture the intricacies and hectic power of their live performances. The album is a recording of gypsy songs - sad, joyful, minor, and beautiful. Some songs are fast and packed with energy, while others are slower, Balkan ballads marked by the lamentations of Trost’s violin weeping like a heartbroken Roma girl. Featuring guest performances by Beirut’s Zach Condon and members of legendary Romanian brass band Fanfare Ciocarlia, The Way the Wind Blows is an album that allows the listener, if he is patient, to escape the mundane West and its modern trivialities, for a fictional, romanticized Eastern Europe where every wandering derelict will break your heart if you merely put an instrument in his hands.

One highlight of the album is the crushingly slow is “Waltz for Tuba and Strings.” Trost’s violin dances elegantly over the pounding, deep tuba and the drawn out bass notes that the accordion exhales. Another song, “The Sparrow,” begins with a fast, synchronized harmony between accordion and violin that plays over the hurried stomping of feet. Soon, the violin departs, soaring dramatically and piercingly high into the air to perch and watch the accordion rush across the ground below.

A Hawk and a Hacksaw is a fascinating departure from the hordes of formulaicsounding indie bands, and The Way the Wind Blows is their finest, most accessible work to date. The album is the perfect companion to a daydream vacation to nineteenth century Prague. ; Jesse Kohnesse Kohn belongs in a freak show. Foul smells seep out, like decaying flesh, from beneath his door, which is kept perpetually shut. On the rare occasions that he ventures out into the daylight, he walks beneath an open umbrella in order to preserve his ghostly pallor. Having reached the pinnacle of pretension, he is unsociable, unpleasant and unspeakably ugly. Should you ever encounter this ghastly, repulsive creature plaguing the pathways and halls of this great university, run away.

unearth by MICHAEL TUCKER III: IN THE EYES OF FIRE (Metal Blade) 28

The members of Unearth are veterans to the metal scene, but have only recently received notoriety. Their newest album, III: In the Eyes of Fire, has silenced all the critics and left metal heads everywhere echoing one simple truth: Unearth is here to stay. Unearth got off to a rocky start with their 2002 release of The Strings of Conscience. They took a shot at melding the snappy drumming and distorted power chords of heavy metal with the slowed-down, staccato breakdowns of hardcore. But, their songs were loosely tied together and lacked a natural flow. Overall, their sound was rough and poorly mixed. At the time Unearth released their first album, metalcore was a well-established genre, but bands were beginning to reproduce the popular sound instead of using it as an influence. Suddenly, a wave of unoriginal bands flooded the metalcore scene and the unique sound was lost. Because Unearth’s first record was heavily influenced by early metalcore, it was written off by many critics as another attempt to mimic the popular sound. Unearth was undeterred by the criticism and cut two more albums. In 2006, they entered the studio and began working on III: In the Eyes of Fire. It was their chance to finally show everyone what Unearth was

all about: heavy, raging music. But to do so, they would have to overcome the obstacle of mixing the fluid play of heavy metal with the powerful, regimented breakdowns of hardcore. The fruit of their labors is an 11-track, aural assault that brutalizes even the most grizzled of metal-heads with shredding guitars, explosive drums and captivating vocals. The songs are technical, requiring each member to have a mastery of his instrument. The timing is precise; every note is played scrupulously. Lead vocalist Trevor Phipps unleashes visceral grunts and richly textured screams that expose the music’s hardcore roots. Anger and aggression resonate in each word he shouts. His passion and emotion connect with the listener in a way that is better explained in clenched fists and grinding teeth. Guitarists Ken Susi and Ben McGrath rain down melodic riffs and scorching bridges that take the music to a higher level of complexity. The drum work showcases the versatility of drummer Mike Justian. He is consistent and technically sound. During breakdowns, Justain becomes a savage beast, blasting across his kit at an astonishing pace. Producer Terry Date (Pantera/Ozzy Osbourne) has refined Unearth’s sound by impeccably layering the instruments and vocals. The third song, “March of Mutes,” reveals Unearth’s eclectic influences and ability to write complex, uniquely structured songs. It lulls the listener into a false sense of security by the introduction, which utilizes classical guitar harmony to open the song softly. The brief, easy-listening is like the eye of the storm; a placid, well deserved break from the ferociously powerful CD. But as soon as it comes, it is gone. Fast, melodic guitar instantly ignites an inferno that burns throughout the entire song, complimented by double-bass drumming and well-timed gravity rolls. The speed increases and takes the listener to the threshold before the classic, hardcore breakdown. The fast guitar and crisp drums become slow and powerful as the song culminates in guttural screams intensely belting out crude emotion. Heavy metal? Hardcore? Metalcore? The record’s genre is uncertain. But one thing is clear: with the release of III: In the Eyes of Fire, Unearth has proven itself a force in the realm of metal.

attrition

by BOBBY WESTFALL PREFACE EP and CHAPTER 1: WE’ RE FUCKING SERIOUS (Self-Released)

How to explain Attrition? I could simply say that, as their name implies, Attrition are brutal, going from blazing speed to crushing, stomping breakdowns. But that would not come close to doing this DC (deaDCity) hardcore band justice. I could offer up many comparisons: the vocals are somewhere between those of Modern Life Is War and His Hero Is Gone, the breakdowns incorporate the metalcore of Earth Crisis, while the melody that runs over both the fast and slow parts resembles Saetia or Pg. 99. These things are all true, but they are not nearly enough to capture the band’s essence entirely. Just as much as Attrition’s songs are not broken into simple verse-chorus-breakdown structure, Attrition as a band cannot be broken down into clichés or comparisons. They are experimental and unique while being completely coherent and enjoyable. Their entire sound, every note, every scream, every drumbeat, exudes passion, desperation, and hope.

This experience begins with their self-released CD-R EP Preface. Its length alone - four songs in almost 20 minutes – makes it a standout among hardcore records. Attrition’s unique formula is evident from the very first blasts of spastic down-tuned guitar noise and pounding drums. Within seconds, a twinkling melody rises above the brutal noise. Each song begins this way, pummeling yet melodic, with intensely personal yet entirely political growls and screams. Just when you feel like you’re about to collapse from the beat down, the band stops, to pick you up and race with a bright beautiful melody line and a circle pit beat only to lead you into another crushing floor punching breakdown, and if you’re lucky, a gang sing along like a desperate scream for change. And if you worried that despite musical triumph, Attrition might fall to the same lyrical clichés as so many upstart hardcore bands, well worry no more. Attrition cry out with an intensely personal, emotional approach to anarchist politics and straight-edge conviction. There is no “you and me we’ll make the difference”. Instead we hear a severe indictment of the capitalist system with the screaming mantra of “this is not life/always choking/always looking down” and the cry of “where is our safe place? Our sanctuary from the commonplace?” is Attrition’s response to people who bring the prejudices and negative attitudes of the mainstream world into the hardcore scene. And if you don’t understand exactly what issue they’re taking on, their website offers a detailed explanation of each song. Attrition’s more recent offering, Chapter 1: We’re Fucking Serious (as if there were any doubt of that after Preface), offers nothing more than the same sound totally refined and more cathartic, with new social challenges to confront. The songs have been condensed into two-minute punk rock attacks, the sound quality is clearer, and did I just hear clean guitar intro? This record does nothing Preface couldn’t do, it just does it all 100 percent better. As hardcore is becoming more bloated and generic and so many of the bands playing the same three chords and fast-as-hell beats just can’t do what Minor Threat and Youth of Today once did, Attrition have found a way to hit as hard as the classics with an entirely new approach to the sound. Open yourself to their music and they will shake your soul and awaken your conscience. And if that’s not what hardcore punk rock is about, then I don’t know what it is. But I know that both in my consciousness and at an Attrition show, as sung in “Only to Fall” off Preface, “I can’t sit and watch.” And that’s exactly how it should be.  ; Bobby Westfallobby Westfall is a freshman considering a major in history and a proud member of Thrashaholics Unanimous. His main passion in life is producing ever more bad puns on hardcore songs and straight edge slogans. All he wants to have is good clean fun.

LIVING WITH THE LIVING (Touch & Go) by SHANA HURLEY ted leo and the pharmacists  MELISMAreviews

Every generation has rock stars to whom one feels comfortable referring by first name only; some unidentifiable “X factor” breaks down the boundaries between the artist and the fan. For Ted Leo, it might be the catchy, power-pop guitar parts that define his familiar, signature sound. Maybe it’s because one knows that his songs are drenched in sincerity, often personally addressing individuals by name. It might just be that, somehow, this guy - a regular old dude with a goofy voice and without an ounce of pretension - has fused these two qualities and showed a generation that they could do it, too. There was Johnny Rotten and Iggy Pop and Kurt Cobain. And now there is Ted, too.

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists have made a successful, reputable career by constructing solid pop rock songs and backing them up with a powerful, ethical approach. One of the most hardworking bands, they’re constantly on the road diffusing their music and championing their ideals. Their jump to Touch and Go Records for their most recent release, Living with the Living, represents a shift to a larger independent label but a steadfast adherence to independent ideals. As a product of the ethically unforgiving hardcore scene, Leo carries an underlying punk rock attitude that cuts through the sweetness of his sound and niceness of his personality. In many ways, just as The Clash was both decidedly punk yet undeniably accessible, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists forge a Clash-like path on this record. Just as The Clash redefined punk rock by adding strong currents of reggae and ska, Leo also experiments with boundaries. And what’s more, The Clash’s musical repertoire included many forgettable “filler” songs, too, a tactic Ted and his Pharmacists seem to employ on Living with the Living. After a curious noise sample titled “The Fourth World War,” the first real song on the album captures the infectiousness of good Ted Leo songwriting. The track, “Sons of Cain,” recalls the era of Heart of Oak. The next song, “Army Bound,” echoes the Joe Strummer-like social commentary of “Spanish Bombs” as Leo rails against the injustice of poverty’s influence on our “volunteer” army. Similarly, in the closing “C.I.A,” Leo rhetorically poses: “The C.I.A.: only you know what you’ve done,” which rings with an eerie effect. Just as “Lost in the Supermarket” was a haunting personal narrative, “La Costa Brava” captures Ted’s wistful reminiscences of su pais favorita, España. “The World Stops Turning” and “Some Beginner’s Mind” are great in the way that the Ted Leo and the Pharmacists always are: fun, catchy, soulful and sincere. These songs are classic; simple constructions, powerful melodies, smart lyrics and catchy hooks put them in the tradition of Leo’s best.

However, my favorite tracks on the album are its riskier songs. In the vein of “Revolution Rock” and “Rudie Can’t Fail,” the most exciting track is the dub-infused “The Unwanted Ones.” The band also takes a risk, to mixed success, with “Bomb.Repeat.Bomb.” Recalling his hardcore roots, Leo talks through his anger about the Iraq War over a frenetic, fast-paced punk rock score interspersed with melodious segments. “Sure we could mobilize a million troops, though a thousand would probably get the job done /but then people would start to ask questions,” he sings, satirizing senior administration officials. “The Lost Brigade” has a funk flavor and especially nuanced vocals, highlighted by producer Brendan Canty’s production (yes, that Brendan Canty of Fugazi). On “Toro and the Toredor,” the band explores soft and tuneful R&B influences on a product that sounds like nothing else in their back catalogue. These songs show the band’s willingness to challenge even their own conventions and progress as a songwriting unit.

When Leo plays it too safe, the product suffers. “Who Do You Love?” and “Colleen” are singles, more polished variants of the accessibility of Shake the Sheets’ “Me and Mia.” In particular, the over-produced female back-up vocals of the chorus of “Who Do You Love?” make the song’s commercial viability evident and unappealing. Even though “Bottle of Buckie” attempts a previously invoked Ted Leo trick by incorporating a classically Irish sound in the spirit of The Pogues, the effort falls flat in the context of the song’s saccharine chorus. These three songs detract from the integrity of the album; yet, they will provide a new generation of Ted Leo fans something to hold on to, as “Timorous Me” and “Biomusicology” did earlier.

In all, Living with the Living most resembles a Clash album because of its damning inconsistency. Though some songs are good - even great - many could be brushed under the rug. And, despite some songs being stylistically familiar, others are challenging to listen to. Living is as smart and emotional as ever, but more sophisticated, too. Unlike Shake the Sheets’ election-year commentary and stylistic homogeny, the lyrical and music diversity of this album set it apart from the Pharmacists’ past efforts. 

lifetime SELF-TITLED (Decaydance/Fueled By Ramen) by SHANA HURLEY

Almost without exception, reunion tours are terrible ideas. Bands are strung together by an amalgamation of original and ex-members, with one member visibly seething about having to share a stage with a hated ex-friend. The awkward band relishes the moment, detachedly playing songs without passion while considering what they could buy with the reunion money. The power of the reunion money almost offsets the disdain band members feel for one another – but not quite. Then, of course, the worst idea of all is when the aforementioned bands decide to return to the studio to rekindle that old flame. Instead of channeling old chemistry to create reunion gold, great bands have produced awful albums, which embarrass them and their illustrious careers. When historic 1988 hardcore band Gorilla Biscuits decided to reunite for one show, they were met with excitement. However, the reunion tour that followed proved otherwise. And, when they decided to enter the studio, they left with abysmal new material. Bands should learn that reunion tours and albums lead to wistful fans occupying themselves with the sentiment, “And they used to be so good!” Somehow, however, New Jersey’s Lifetime have defied the odds. After deciding to reunite for 2006’s cancelled Hellfest music festival, the boys scrapped together three last minute reunion shows. When the West Coast clamored for equal opportunity, Lifetime responded to their fans by playing three more shows. Reinforcing the sincerity that has always been Lifetime’s raison d’être, the band played their series of packed venues to two generations of Lifetime diehards, and donated the proceeds to charity.

The range of fans coming to current Lifetime shows alludes to the enormous influence the band possesses. For starters, guitarist Dan Yemin has gone on to form two of the biggest names in pop/hardcore crossover: Kid Dynamite and Paint It Black. Even without Lifetime, these two bands have spawned a generation of emulators like None More Black, the Loved Ones, and the Back-Up Plan, among many others.

More important, however, is the entirely novel path that Lifetime forged in pop/punk music. The New Jersey scene that Lifetime breathed life into gave rise to such acts as Saves the Day and Thursday. It’s impossible to imagine Saves the Day classics like “You Vandal” or “East Coast” without Lifetime’s revolutionary blend of hardcore and melody. A generation of FuseTV teenagers would still be emulating the rap/rock combinations of Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park if Lifetime hadn’t inspired an innovating crossover between pop music and the punk/hardcore underground. Most strikingly, this release is Lifetime’s only album not on the independent Jade Tree Records label. Instead, Lifetime is a release of Decaydance Records, a Fueled By Ramen subsidiary owned by Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz. Whenever asked, Fall Out Boy consistently cite Lifetime as their biggest influence. In a collection of their top ten most inspirational albums found on Artist Direct, three of the ten are Lifetime records (to date of that list, Lifetime had only put out six LPs and EPs). Wentz was so intent on promoting Lifetime’s influence upon his music that he signed them. It’s easy, then, to recognize that Lifetime is one of the most important bands in today’s popular subculture. Strikingly, Lifetime’s first album in over ten years, Lifetime, is up to par with their other releases. In fact, it is more than just level with their previous efforts: Lifetime is actually good. Every song on the record borrows from Lifetime’s classic staples: frontman Ari Katz’s snotty vocals, Yemin’s signature riffs or Scott Golley’s quick drumming. Lifetime’s differences are that Katz’s voice is clearer, Yemin’s songwriting has more melody and Golley’s drumming slows the pace down, so the songs are more accessible.

The album’s opening song, “Northbound Breakdown,” is a representative demonstration of what follows. It is as melodic as anything the band has produced to date and Katz’s vocals are wholly comprehensible and sweet sounding. The lyrics are personal, relatable and about a relationship - uncharacteristic of the masculinity dominating the hardcore scene. Yet, the drum parts are faster than comparable pop-punk, planting the song firmly within Lifetime’s roots. “Airport Monday Morning,” the second track, shows Katz’s voice in its sophisticated form but slightly bit faster, recalling older songs like “Irony is for Suckers.” On “Can’t Think About it Now,” Katz employs a whine rather than a bark. In “Song for Mel,” the track changes tempo for a groovy bridge. Further, dueling guitars in “Spiders in the Garden” show complex songwriting. At every turn, each song proves that the band is smarter, older, and more together than ever.

However, these songs are not yet radio-friendly. They are still rough enough around the edges to occupy Lifetime’s unique niche of too-prettyfor-hardcore and too-rough-for-pop music. Tellingly, Lifetime borrows from hardcore in less predictable ways than sheer intensity. Standout track, “Records at Nite,” which closes the record, begins with a melodic intro before breaking into a traditional pop-punk sound, then invokes hardcore sing-along choruses at its conclusion. At the other end, Katz’s voice often slips into his trademark mumble – take “Just a Quiet Evening” – which is too jarring for many radio-punk fans.

With the self-titled effort, Lifetime strikes a commendable balance. It is familiar, but it also challenges the band’s own conventions. Importantly, the record stays appealing to the band’s old fans, yet is also compelling for new ones. In the most flattering of testaments, Lifetime is exactly where Jersey’s Best Dancers left off. If the sheer volume of mainstream pop-punk didn’t testify otherwise, it would be easy to believe that the band never went away.