Review Summary: Fail to be converted.
Independent labels have been pushed aside and stamped out. The rebellious nature of youth has manifested itself into a corporate controlled monopoly serving investor interests where to threaten and question is most certainly not on the agenda.
Misfit icons who enlighten and carry the thoughts of an entire generation have been replaced by indolent clones who are influenced not by what is happening around them but by what they are told was once good.
The man won, apathy reigns, anger died.
Out of the boardroom strolls the abysmally named Brand New with their shoddily titled 3rd offering and major label debut The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me to hammer home the hurtful truth that guitars and drums no longer have the power to shake the system but are nothing more than a tool to make $$$.
TDAG. When it comes to a bit of pathos, the title is a total nonsense which is consistent with the music on offer.
Opening with a made for radio stormer Sowing Season, which on first listen offers some promise with a chorus that almost soars and a call to arms “Yeah, Yeah” excites before a crashing realisation after a few spins its nothing more than a Longpigs b-side cobbled together in a pizza parlour.
Rather than embody the questions it raises by accelerating into an explosion of bile, contemplation, reflection and anger delivered with roaring guitar and fervent howls the album gives us the pleasant little number Millstone which is about as fraught as Art Garfunkel spilling latte on his new corduroy slacks.
And so it continues. Vocals from Jesse Lacey seem to be so disenfranchised from emotional depth they may as well be relayed by some speak n spell pointing out the a,b,cs of a ‘My first quibble cos life is a bit turd’ diary entry that will be lapped up by the ‘emo’ crowd.
We are lead to believe that the personal turmoil on offer here is that of of the gods themselves raging inside a troubled soul? Why then does it seem more like a sack of kittens mewling inside a sack.
Constructing the mechanic of turmoil is an impossibility when tunes such as Degausser and Limousine are so blatantly amateur dramatic it makes MCR seem like Joy Division.
Not the Sun is the sound of a major label exec informing the band “You sound swell but could you sound like this?” and the band duly obliges asking if there is anything else they can do to keep fingers clicking.
Splashed throughout the album is a sense that you’re listening to a Bay City Rollers meets Fall Out Boy combo with added pop.
Luca is relatively pleasant, its Street Spirit acoustic intro is something that captures the ear but it inevitably concludes with shouted “Where you been” that actually raises a laugh in how it destroys what is possibly the best tune on the album.
More laughs follow in the God awful Handcuffs and then the album sputters out with a few more forgettable numbers and that concludes what according to some is the greatest album of the last 15yrs.
TDAG is the sound of unbelievers praying to nothing all the while keeping an eye on the cash till and whats ‘in’
Save your soul, don’t fall foul of false idols.
