There’s a lot of dumb shit happening in the scene and it needs to stop right now. For starters, every time I go to a show I see a bunch of concert-virgin jag offs wearing shirts for the band that’s about to play. And it’s like, dude, we get it. We know you like the band. You’re at the show.
But you know what’s even worse? None of these idiots are wearing pants underneath those cringe-ass shirts. We just have butts fully out and dongs bouncing with each one of their gleeful steps.
This scene is really small. We’re all going to see each other at the next show and the one venue in town is tiny as hell. You can literally see every person in the room no matter where you stand. So even if these reverse peeping toms find a pair of Levis before the next gig, literally every person in the scene will know exactly how awful their penis is.
And guess what? We can also see everyone’s shirt. So we know how dumb you looked with your dumb shirt choice and your even dumber balls.
But the thing that really pisses me off is when I see all of these pantsless morons popping a squat in the venue seating. Last week, an entire row was filled with bare-bottomed jabronis exfoliating their ass-ne on those already disgusting seats.
Those seats don’t move, you know. So anywhere you sit in that venue, it’s going to be on top of some punisher’s skidmarks.
I’ve been trying so hard to avoid these idiots. Last week I went to see a smooth jazz concert just to get away from them but the place was STILL filled to the brim with idiots Pooh-bearing it without any shame. Just standing around with their hogs dangling underneath an airbrushed picture of a geek with a straight saxophone.
One guy’s shirt did look like a penis was coming out of the bottom of the sax, though. That was kinda funny.
I just want to go to a show where I don’t have to make a choice between a band I want to see and taking that good dick back home immediately. Because I’ve already missed too many classic sets on the wrong side of that choice.
“Pull the Thorns from Your Heart,” Senses Fail’s sixth studio album and first full-length for then-new label Pure Noise Records, current home to both The Story So Far and Fats Domino, is easily the biggest misstep in SF’s career, and even you trolls know we’re right. The LP had the misfortune of following up their most underrated album “Renacer,” and its majority sadly sounds like demos and B-Sides that never should’ve been unleashed on the world. On a more flattering note, and we say this with the courage of an open heart, we really dig its album cover, which is just as lavish as the studio, which they cut some of the record at. Also, the band recorded this album with Shaun Lopez of (Crosses), Far, The Revolution Smile, and Beethoven fame, but even Mr. Lopez couldn’t make good, great. Take refuge and surrender.
“The Fire,” Senses Fail’s fourth studio album, and last for a non-imprint of Vagrant Records, has some good songs, but the total vibe is just a sea of overall exhaustion and tiredness that sadly puts out any je ne sais quoi of a positive metaphorically fire burning. Overall, it is the band’s first disjointed and inconsistent LP, and we believe that it truly slightly set the group back, until they came back with guns and lifeboats swinging and Saint Anthony shipwrecking on the aforementioned “Renacer,” the band’s follow-up departure, in the best way, record. When Irish eyes are smiling, err, smile.
Surprisingly to many, and certainly you, but not us, Senses Fail is still going strong in the year of our lord known as 2023, and released their eighth album “Hell Is in Your Head” the year before to great reviews. This particular record is the first to be listed here with little filler in your head, and we’ll die on that hill via water, plasma, or fire, but likely go to heaven instead of hell once we pass on because we’re perfect. Like its former, and next to be mentioned “If There Is Light, It Will Find You,” this LP was produced by Saosin’s Beau Birchell, and Mr. B successfully chewed the fat and brought out the best in SF. We’re excited to see what’s next for the five-piece, as it will be number nine, number nine, number nine.
Lucky #7 album “If There Is Light, It Will Find You” was a nostalgic, yet “current,” return to form for Senses Fail, and a necessary restart of an engine that many in the scene thought was corroded and smelled like the New Jersey Turnpike. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t and it isn’t right now either as the band appears to be set on a path to “career” status. Would you have thought such in the mid-aughts? Don’t answer that because moving forward, it’s always going to be Senses Fail’s year! This effort is the band’s best for Pure Noise Records as well.
The word “renacer” is Spanish for “reborn,” the term “mi amor” means “my love,” and SF embodies a love reborn throughout this record’s twelve biting tracks, and especially with the song title, “Closure / Rebirth.” This is also SF’s second heaviest record, as the lowest ranked one, “Pull the Thorns from Your Heart” takes the crown, albeit with a more saturated fats, anti-antioxidants, and artery cloggers, so “Renacer” is also their best heavy, screamy, loud AF and brutal blegh bowel moving breakdown effort. Also, this LP is the band’s first and only record on Staple Records, an imprint of Vagrant Records that also featured Thrice, La Dispute, and James Brown, and last via the Vagrant familia.
As you know, a band only gets one chance to make their debut effort, and such can take almost a lifetime for some, OR a surprisingly short amount of time for others, but Senses Fail clearly supplanted their legacy in the Warped Tour mid-aughts post-hardcore/“screamo” world with their first album, and likely the majority’s intro to the NJ five-piece, the constantly misspelled “Let it Enfold You.” Produced by Steve Evetts, the man behind albums from Saves the Day and Ashlee Simpson, and a human who many bowed down reverentially to in the late-90s, the album debuted at thirty-four on the Billboard 100 and was certified gold, yes, gold.
Basically, this album was a perfect follow-up to their second record “Still Searching,” and an almost flawless one altogether. The band seemingly recently realized this album’s grower and not a shower legacy, and just got off a tour for the fifteenth, holy moly artichoke, anniversary of “Life Is Not a Waiting Room,” with openers Holding Absence, Thousand Below, and O-Town, and it needs to be mentioned via notarized contract here, that SF CONSTANTLY gives back to the rock world by taking smaller acts on the road with ‘em; much respect for the manner by which SF maps the streets of the scene as sort of elder statesmen.
“Still Searching” = Sophomore slump? Hell no. Even though every day is a struggle, we respond to said math inquiry by saying, “Far from it, priests, matadors, cars, and slap bracelets.” In addition, this is SF’s only “no skip” studio album, and producer Brian McTernan deserves crowded rooms of applause for successfully turning a group in mid-puberty to fully-grown competent and confident adults, which is more than showcased with better musicianship, lyrics, songs, and overall confidence; Maryland’s Salad Days Studio should get name-dropped almost as much as the states famous crab cakes.
You would think that on a list of “Mad Men” characters who make us want to smoke, the heir to the Lucky Strike empire would rank high, but no. One look at this machiavellian, manipulative, predatory fuckhead and all we can think about is violence. He’s probably the most punchable character in Mad Men, and that’s saying a lot.
“Stop smoking so much—it’s a sign of weakness.” Bert’s right on the money about that one. The only time the man who puts the Cooper in Sterling Cooper makes us want to duck out and light up is when he starts telling us to check out Ayn Rand.
Bob’s all about positivity and good vibes. And appearances. And duplicitousness. And maybe murder? Anyway, he’s not about cigs.
She managed to get Pete Campbell to chill the fuck out, so this woman can pretty much do anything. I assume she doesn’t want me to smoke, so the pack I have hidden inside a lunchbox buried in my backyard will stay closed.
We only see Sally smoke twice: once when she gets caught by her mom and locked in a closet, and another time when her mom decides to reward her with one. God parenting was easy in the ‘60s. Anyway, that child actor still has a lot to learn about making smoking look cool.
Harry is a despicable parasite. I can only remember him being earnestly kind toward another character once and even then he still got with the dudes girl. Nothing Crane does looks cool, not even smoking, the coolest thing you can do.
Another non-smoker, and a passive-aggressive judgy one at that. Actually, that does kind of make us want one. Hmm.
If Ida makes you wanna light up you probably think Maxine comics are pretty funny. Ida is there to suppress base urges not encourage them, right Don?
Can’t remember if he even smokes, but if he does you know he makes it look terrible. John’s defining attribute is not being able to pull things off.
The last thing we see her do is throw a cigarette dispenser at Don. He deserved it, and then some, but it doesn’t tempt us to go to the bar down the street and dig through the ashtray outside to see if there are any snipes left in there.
He doesn’t make us want to smoke more than any other baby in the world, which is to say a little bit, but only if we’re in the room with him.
Lou doesn’t smoke, scouts honor. He is also incapable of expressing passion or feeling joy in any way. No one wants to be like Lou, and if he did smoke it would actually be a powerful deterrent.
He’s the most innocent character on the show, so why do we kinda want one already? Oh man, this is gonna be a long list.
This rank-and-file conservative shill is too square to make us want a smoke, and yet we want one. You can wear two patches at once right?
Joey’s charming on the surface but eventually we see his attitude toward women is so toxic it’s cancelable even by ‘60s standards. You know what else seems super charming on the surface despite its known toxicity right now? A fucking smoke.
Jimmy Barrett’s overly ambitious wife/manager is bad news, and Don knows it right away. Why does he sleep with her anyway? Because the man has an addiction. Sexy, delicious addiction. Maybe we’ll try the gum and the patch together?
Getting involved with Jane is a lot like going back to cigs. Clearly a huge mistake that the whole office will judge you for, but hard to resist.
If we had to be Roger’s secretary we would smoke three packs a day. That’s a lot of fires to put out all day, you might as well enjoy some.
Remember that whole thing she went through with Peggy and the flowers? How the hell do you even navigate that kind of awkwardness without sweet sweet nicotine?
It’s impossible to be Pete’s secretary without smoking at least a pack a day. Actually it’s impossible to have anything to do with Pete Campbell and not smoke a pack a day.
She’s probably strung out and chain-smoking at William S. Burroughs’ place right now, daddio.
You couldn’t be a comedian in the ‘60s without cigarettes, it wasn’t even allowed. A pack of Lucky Strikes has a writing credit on “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In.”
Peggy’s sister drudges up a lot of negative feelings. Jealousy, spite, judgment… all feelings that go great with a Marlboro.
All you have to do is sit behind a desk and smoke and Meredith will tell you what a great job you’re doing and mean it.
The former Governor of New Jersey seemed to realize his chances at winning the nomination were slim, so he used his limited speaking time to push his clumsily-named new podcast “Chris Christie Rewatches The Sopranos and Then He Talks About the Episode w/ Chris Christie.” When asked about continued support for Israel Christie said “That reminds me about Tony Soprano’s continued support of Chrissy Moltisanti. I actually just had Michael Imperioli’s former assistant on the latest episode of the podcast which is available wherever you get podcasts.” Christie closed by urging Americans to use promo code “ChrisChristieRewatchesTheSopranosandThenHeTalksAbouttheEpisode” for 25% off their first HelloFresh order.
Haley has been critical of Ramaswamy’s use of TikTok, which led to Ramaswamy calling out Haley’s daughter for being active on the social media platform. This caused a tense exchange which, as it soon became clear, was all sort of some sick psycho-sexual foreplay between the two candidates. Haley called Ramaswamy “Scum” and he replied “I’m so fucking hard right now, my dick is about to knock over this lectern.” Haley then turned to the moderators and asked “Does this building have flood insurance? Because my pussy is so wet it’s about to raise the sea level.”
The South Carolina Senator seemed distracted throughout the night and had trouble staying on message. “I don’t think it’s out of the question to ask your Uber driver to turn down the music in the car, but this guy seemed offended when I asked and then started smoking with all the windows up,” said Scott when asked about Biden’s handling of the economy. “I tried telling him I needed to focus because I was coming to this debate, and then he told me if I didn’t leave him a good tip he would say I tried kissing his neck.” Scott then asked for help contacting Uber’s customer service.
The two presidential hopefuls shared a terse exchange about their political experience levels which led the Florida governor to say “I want you inside me so bad right now, like I wish you could split me in half in front of all these people.” Ramaswamy responded by saying “It’s like I have a cinderblock made out of flesh in my underwear right now. Did we ever find out if this place had flood insurance? because I’m about to cum so much it will raise the sea level.”
When moderators asked Ron DeSantis how he feels about the current poll numbers he replied “SMOKIN’!” and then danced around the stage for two minutes before returning to the podium and screaming “SOMEBODY STOP ME!” This led to an exchange with Chris Christie where Christie admitted his favorite Jim Carrey movie is “The Number 23.” The audience responded to the admission with a chorus of boos.
Following a tense exchange over their support of former president Trump, Chris Christie said to Ramaswamy “I’ve got a plump New Jersey sausage that I want you to devour.” Ramaswamy then admitted he does not feel a spark with Christie, saying “Most of this debate I’ve been so rock hard that I’ve felt lightheaded, but you caused my penis to get so soft that I’m afraid it might disintegrate.” Christie tried to laugh it off by saying “I was just kidding anyway,” but he was clearly about to cry.
“Sometimes when I’m driving at night it’s tough to see people in the crosswalk, and yeah my car is always covered in random dents and blood because of it,” said Haley. “That’s why if I become president my first order of business will be making sure the sun stays out 24 hours a day.” Haley did not apologize to any of the families she hit with her car, but does hope they will be able to vote for her.
Towards the end of the evening, Ramaswamy admitted he wished Asa Hutchinson qualified for the debate because “That man’s mouth is like a velvet-lined vacuum” and Mike Pence “Did things to me that made me see God, and cum buckets.” Ramaswamy then made it a point to remind Chris Christie that he is not invited to the orgy, which Christie claimed he didn’t want to attend anyway because he had a sexier orgy to attend.
This may sound cold, as we really wanted to rank this one higher than the bottom slot, but after much reflection, love, light, and prayers to the main man upstairs, Barry “Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli” Zuckercorn, we couldn’t do so in good conscience. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again ad nauseam, it’s tough for a band with a revered and expansive catalog like Gob to consistently put out hit after hit after hit after hit. So, “Apt. 13” is go-od, but not gr-eh-at, so it legally has to start this piece, and we see no counter argument for such unless we do. Still, any Gob release is an enjoyable romp, making it the same as it ever was, so “Apt. 13” is better than some band’s best LPs. We think that the long gap between this one and its predecessor “Muertos Vivos” didn’t help its cause.
Since we just semi-brutally dissected the band’s newest LP “Apt. 13,” let’s get to their oldest right this very moment, Gob’s cult favorite debut LP “Too Late… No Friends.” This record is definitely fun AF for kids of all ages with dirty mouths and minds, but the songs don’t translate as well from a songwriting and production standpoint in 2023 as they likely did in the mid-90s. To put it bluntly, all vocals and instruments got so much better for the next five, but this record’s charm is what got it ranked just above the dreaded lowest position here at number six. Also, you know you’re in for quite a treat when your album’s longest song clocks in at two minutes and seventeen seconds and is called “Asshole TV,” and that the second longest is named after WWF, not WWE’s, Goldust’s slimy savvy vixen seductive smokeshow valet Marlena.
Slots three and four here in this piece could be swapped depending on the day, but on this very day, Ellin beats Sleepyhead by a small yet winning margin; that’s just the way that it is, morons with 144 problems. Gob’s third LP “The World According to Gob” not only features their own band name in its title, but as of today, certainly yesterday, and likely tomorrow, is their best selling effort, Juno, yes Juno nominated, and officially certified Gold in Canada. Also, as you may or may not know, “I Hear You Calling” is likely Gob’s biggest hit in Canada and “hit” stateside, so you can listen to it twice: once here, and once on its follow-up “Foot in Mouth Disease.” In closing, “The World According To Gob” has the band’s coolest cover art.
After a fun, fun, fun release via Arista Records, then-home to peers who never took off called Wakefield, (freaking) OutKast, nu-metal sludgers with a heart of gold and stone known as Adema, and KIDZ BOP superstar GG Allin, called “F.U. EP” shortly after “The World According To Gob” hit stores, the four-piece released their fourth studio album “Foot In Mouth Disease.” and said record is WAY too slept on for its own good. We wish that the world was more according to Gob than other mid pop-punk acts that did better domestically during the early-aughts, and we are not specifically singling anyone out in print, so you can surmise who we are referring to in your bones, cold feet, this evil world, and boring lives. We’re forever fed up with the music industry, but don’t worry, we won’t cut ourselves whilst we are in deep thought about spoiled lemon-aid.
This is a non-shallow substantive, yet bite-sized Jordans Morning Crisp Wild About Berries cereal box commentary regarding Gob’s last ‘90s release: “How Far Shallow Takes You” is easily one of the most enjoyable melodic punk rock albums of all time, and “236 E. Broadway,” a track covered perfectly by Silverstein on “Short Songs,” might be the best opening track to ANY late-90s rock record; we’re the self-appointed leaders of musical authority, so we will forever stand, deliver, bury your past, and paint it, black. Ok? Cool! Also, “How Far Shallow Takes You,” for lack of a better term, took the band to their biggest heights at the time, and certainly caused “suits” to take notice, and Nettwerk Management proved such by re-releasing the then-Fearless Records, err, release. Together things happen all the time, so please assist in letting love reign o’er me, you, all we are, and Crown Royal.
Why isn’t number #5, #4, or #2 in the gold medal slot in this stupid bad take article ranking all of Gob’s studio albums? Well we have two words for you that apply to every season: You’re wrong. Wake up, face the ashes, get a new prescription to pain medication, and check out this “no skip” slept upon Gob release right this very moment. Still feel nothing, banshees? Pity. “Muertos Vivos” is Gob at their angry best, and said emotion is translated perfectly in musical form here. This album is the literal dawning of the age of Aquarius, the living dead declaring war on cemeteries, Ash Wednesday, and your least favorite family member, likely named Tula. In conclusion, the band’s moms may be concerned with what Gob became, but we love their 2007 headstrong, heavy, huggable, and hellish vibe.