One of my crowning achievements during my dubious tenure at Noisey was getting the entire staff into the Menzingers. Well, almost the entire staff. My friend Kim Taylor Bennett tried ‘em on and said they sounded like “an emo Rancid.” Not for her. I will forgive this blasphemy as she is my favorite living human. But I did get Eric Sundermann into them and now he’s got some sort of high-up position of The Fader. Which is ironic because The Fader is a publication for cool people and the one time I took him to see the Menzos he noted that they’d be the biggest band in the world if “they didn't look like they spent every day of their life working as librarians.”
Anyway, The Fader asked me, America’s foremost Menzingers historian, to write about their new record, Hello Exile, and I did. I talked to Greg Barnett about how the band has soundtracked their fans’ transition to adulthood. You can read it now. I think this was my favorite quote from it, which was technically from Greg’s dad, about the song “Tellin’ Lies”:
“My dad made fun of me when he first heard that song,” says Barnett. “He was like, ‘What are you talking about, man? Your thirties are the best decade of your entire life! In your twenties, you have no idea what’s going on. You and all your friends are broke, you’re constantly trying to figure things out, it’s a train wreck. But in your thirties, you start to understand yourself and understand others. You find your career path and things start to make sense.’ And I was like, you know what? You’re right. Why did I put it in my head that it’s all doom and gloom? It really shifted my mindset.”
I’ve spent a few weeks with Hello Exile now and my thoughts are this: It opens with a great three-song stretch which flexes solid songwriting, sharp hooks, and very Menzingarian lyrical content. The line “I was getting fucked up with a high school friend, wondering where all the good times went” is probably the most Menzingers shit I’ve ever heard in my life. Later in the song they make mentions of Pennsylvania landmarks like Wayne County and Route 191. They are one rooftop cigarette short of a Menzos royal flush. I don’t think I could top that if you gave me a pen and paper and a hundred years. Let me give it a shot anyway...
“We drove home from the Asbury Lanes,
smoking your dad’s Marlboros
and waiting for the lights on South Street to change.”
Or how about
“Let’s get drunk by the Liberty Bell
Tell your boss at Wawa to go to hell”
Or maybe
“Baby, baby, there are secrets only we know
Like which one’s better, Pat’s or Geno’s”
This sounds like I’m having a go at the band. It sounds like I’m pigeonholing them. I guess maybe I am a lil bit, but the truth is, I love the little Kodachrome East Coast landscape they’ve created and its ever expanding themes of, as I recently dubbed it, dirtbag romanticism. (Dirtbag Romanticism™ is property of Dan Ozzi. If I see the New Yorker trying to steal it I will pen the most scathing letter to the editor the world has ever seen, this I promise you.)
Some bands become uneasy when they feel like their formula has been exposed like this and it often causes them to force a hard turn. There is a certain band from New Jersey—WHO *AHEM* I KNOW IS READING THIS, BRIIIIAAAN—that grew weary of being typecast as the diner-and-classic car band until they one-eightied so hard that they ultimately spun off the road. I get that. I certainly hate being accused of Repeating The Same Joke™. But the Menzingers embrace it, proudly adding these albums to their catalog like they’re adorning buttons onto an old jean jacket, which is another staple of their oeuvre. There’s a confidence to their songwriting and they’re not afraid to play to their strengths, and I appreciate that. I thank the Lord every day that we haven’t gotten a Menzingers synth pop record or a Menzingers shoegaze record.
After Hello Exile’s aforementioned one-two-three punch, the album sort of slips into my subconscious until its closing song. I think I enjoy this record as a vibe more than for its standout singles, although “Strangers Forever” has grown on me quite a lot. When the chips settle, will it end up being my all-time favorite of theirs? Maybe not. (Sorry to be a cliché but there’s just something inexplicably special going on throughout Impossible Past that is so hard to top.) But it’s a Menzingers record and I’d rather listen to it than most things.
Greg also very kindly did the first interview for my newly relaunched Rank Your Records series which is very nice of him because he’s a big rockstar and still had time to do an hourlong interview for some schmuck’s email newsletter. The big surprise, of course, was that he didn’t put Impossible Past first, but made a stellar case for After the Party. For what it’s worth, my personal ranking is as follows...
5. A Lesson in the Abuse of Information Technology
4. Chamberlain Waits
3. Rented World
2. After the Party
1. On the Impossible Past
While we’re on the subject of bands from Philadelphia, I’ve got to take a sec to mention the EP that Anika, Augusta, and Sheena released last month. I actually don’t think that’s the order in which they put themselves in the band’s name but since I know Anika and Augusta but not Sheena, I ordered it the way my brain told me, sorry.
I met Anika and Augusta when they were playing in lil poppy punk bands, and this thing they’re doing now is so far beyond that. I’m not even sure I’d be able to describe it for someone without bumbling over myself. Like, the last song on the EP, “For Billy.” What is that? It’s this rhythmic chant song that is thoroughly hypnotic and never really goes anywhere.
Also, one thing I really appreciate about this EP is that, unless I’m mistaken, the three of them holed themselves up in a cabin for a week to make these songs. Good. I’m tired of the whole artist-in-wooded-seclusion narrative being a strictly male endeavor. You don’t own autumnal creativity, Bon Iver, you just don’t! Do yourself a lil Fall Favor and listen to that if you haven’t yet.
Speaking of autumn music, I’m writing this from the West Coast where they don’t really have a “Fall” or “seasons” so I ask you: when’s a guy supposed to listen to Weakerthans records ‘round here? Am I supposed to crank the AC and throw on a turtleneck sweater just to listen to Reconstruction Site or what?
Alright that’s enough for a Sunday. Even God took a day off when he created the universe. Oh, and speaking of God, yesterday I visited the palatial estate of Chris “Born Hot” Farren. We talked about his billboard, his ART, and his music. I’m going to try something a bit new with that and test the limits of what this newsletter thing can really do next week, all to give you the full interactive Chris Farren experience.