By Eli Schoop, Copy Editor
If I had to summarize one reason as to why I hate emo culture, it would be the widely acclaimed band American Football. It makes total sense as to why scores people loved them i.e. solid instrumentation, lyrics about angst and crises, and an all-consuming narrative about white youths who grew up in the midwest. You’re most likely into this record cause you went on 4chan in 8th grade and saw this was being jerked off over, and that’s okay.
But I’m just done with them. Done with the gratuitous praise for their first self-titled hailed as the best emo album of all time (it’s Just Got Back from the Discomfort… by the Brave Little Abacus if you were wondering), the bands they influenced whose meandering music totally bores (fucking Foxing man…), and their second self-titled (seriously what? Two self-titled albums?) that was complete shit. I mean, it’s 2017, we should be able to get past nostalgia for such milquetoast content, yet the blogs went berserk over the latest American Football like a pack of hungry septum-pierced wolves. Maybe it’s part of our rose-tinted era that we flock to a reunion album heartedly, but I for one will not allow such tripe to go unroasted.
Or maybe, it’s that American Football was never that good all along. Admit it, that person you were pining for whilst listening to “Never Meant” would roll their eyes if they knew you embraced such unbearable sadsack bullshit with ease. “God why doesn’t anyone like me in my hodunk town? Could it be that American Football just makes me look like a self-important loser with a serious lack of emotional intelligence? No, my high school favorites were always great!” This is your brain on terrible Midwestern emo like American Football.
To be honest, it’s conflicting being so harsh towards a Kinsella project. This being that I’m a big fan of Cap’n Jazz, what with actual innovation and creativity taking part in that group, unlike American Football. I guess it would sort of be akin to Dave Grohl transitioning to Foo Fighters from Nirvana, aka losing all flourishes of originality or heart in your musical endeavors, and falling back on trash that you know will appease the lowest common denominator in order to fatten your wallet. Either that or American Football was unintentionally that bad, which boggles the mind insofar as how you can fall artistically.
This band has no sense of urgency, no promise to change your life or make you confront the deeper malaise that haunts us all. Just indulgent treatises on how you wish you could take back what you said or you long for another kiss or some other repetitive motif that gets old after the first song. There have been a million bands who have touched on the topic of bittersweet love, and they’re all fucking better than American Football. Please do not mythologize them anymore, I beg of you all.