Love, all of the time....

I've been writing for Epinions for a while now, and, while still not even to my one year anniversary, I'd like to consider myself to have done a fairly decent job of providing some good reviews for the site that pays me slightly better than a Malaysian shoe factory. I've got my share of mediocre-to-lousy reviews in my past, but there's a few good ones in there.

Of course, when one writes in the music category, its almost always inevitable that people will disagree with you. Musical tastes vary from person to person almost as distinctly as a fingerprint. It doesn't matter how much you like or agree with a person...almost always, you will disagree, quite intensely, over at least one album or two.

Actually, one of the more entertaining facts of my tenure here on planet Epinions has been my contacts with mister punkrawka himself, Stevo. While his ever-present existence on the site as the (his own words) "punk rock snob" of Epinions has, at times, put us on different pages musically, I actually am glad for his existence here on the site.

Why, you may ask, am I glad that someone disagrees with me? Simply put, because it lets people understand the different opinions two people that really do love music can have about an album.

Which brings me to the task at hand, reviewing the most recent album by Thursday, War All the Time. Its easy enough to find Stevo's review of this album; just put in the album's title and bam, there it is. His review is well-written, intelligent, and certainly gives a solid argument as to why this album is over-rated, tepid and generally not worth the hype.

Assuming you read his review, you realize how difficult the task at hand is to accomplish. His review was very convincing; so much so, it took a bit of time for me to even decide to buy the album.

Of course, since buying the album, I can't help but listen to the album, again and again. I totally love this album, and it almost hurts to admit it.

Part of this is, no doubt, related to the iconographic symbolism that surrounds the band Thursday. Emo. Its a stupid appelation, to say the least. Stevo is quite right in criticizing the inherent absurdity of describing a genre of music as "emotional". At least in theory, music is supposed to be emotional; that's why they use it at religious ceremony. But that's a digression I don't want to go down, since it would make this review impossibly long. And its going to be long, anyway.

Thursday, as a band, is one of the beacons of the "emo" sub-culture likely to find mainstream acceptance. This is, in many ways, a pro and a con for the sub-sub-genre known as "emo-core", or, in its more derisive moments, "screamo".

The reason why this is both a good and bad thing is both simple to express, and complicated to explain. Simply put, Thursday is not a subtle band. More accurately expressed, they are impossibly melodramatic. They tend toward metaphors that are sledgehammer-like in their obviousness, and could easily make a hangnail sound earth-shattering in its tragedy. To say Thursday makes things sound worse than they are is a vast understatement.

It is because of this that the band is so easy to mock. I'm a fan of the band, and I make fun of them. After all, they've recorded songs with titles like "Understanding in a Car Crash" and "Paris in Flames" in their past.

If you look at it from a different perspective, however, this album becomes that much more remarkable. If a less intense or melodramatic band were to come up with as ridiculous a notion as using the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, as an allegory for the inevitability of pain and suffering in the world, and its related conflicts of faith vis a vis the concept of a loving God, it would be absurd. Coming from the voices of the absurd...it almost makes sense.

Silly though it might seem, that is pretty much the concept behind this album. Certain things are inevitable, and finding the way to reconcile these things with faith in your respective God is hard to even think about, much less accomplish. Yet lyricist Geoff Rickly attempts to do so. And, for the most part, he succeeds.

The album starts off with one of the "given" tragedies of life, that of a job we hate, but still must endure. Unsurprisingly, most can relate to having a job somewhere we really hate, and this feeling is put into song on the opening track, "For the Workforce, Drowning". Amid a wash of guitars and drums, the voice of Rickly refrains from screams, maintaining the fervent and intense tone of the song, offering up the message of fear, anxiety and self-loathing.

every day just like the last/
waiting for life to start/
its always just ahead of the curve

As we enter the fervent tones of "Between Rupture and Rapture", a suggestion arrives. The sense of loss is present, as is an episode of mourning. Still, hope remains in the face of madness. Maybe the doctors can help us to get over the sense of depression. Within the mind of our imaginary hero, there is a chance. A chance to save, rather than destroy. In the hands of doctors, perhaps not. But perhaps there is something else....

The subtle hints contained within "Division St." continues the peculiar notions of fate that fill this album. A division exists. A division of...what? Faith? Religion? Regardless, this division leads to other decisions, as the struggle to believe is faced with a reality that isn't looking so hot.

All of this leads up to the initial single from the album, "Signals Over the Air". Yes, the song could use a better guitar part than is offered, and it certainly would benefit from a better singer...in spite of that, I love the song. The chorus is so intriguing is its nature, that it makes the song that much more worthwhile.

When you say my name/
I want to split it from your lips/
Are like whispers in the rain/
When you say my nam/
I want to stop it from your lungs/
And collect it from your blood/
To put in the radio

The isolation grows, a life full of meaninglessness and despair (and, no doubt, black hair dye and the purchase of several Cure albums and a pack of clove cigarettes; sorry, had to make the joke).

"Marches and Maneuvers" is a continuation of the bands' theme of pointless fatalism. Its a song about war, heartbreak, and survival. The initial images in the lyrics of the songs, the titular marches and maneuvers, suggest the paranoia of post Sept. 11 America, which has only made living in modern America that much more difficult to manage.

After all, we are a country that needed oceans of Prozac, Vicodin and Xanax to maintain day-to-day existence before the threat of terrorism was conjured in our collective unconscious.

The lyrics of the song, however, don't suggest the generic punk "there is no hope" mentality. Instead, Thursday suggests...love.

they say, after time
all this will heal
we will rebuild and these broken arms will mend
themselves in our embrace

Okay, so the song does have the over-used formula of sing one line, scream the next, repeat ad nauseum. Which does make it a little less interesting than the first few songs. But its not so weak I need to skip it.

And besides, it thematically sets up the next track on the album, "Asleep in the Chapel". Again, Thursday's "gift" (ha ha) for subtlety is expressed in this song. Okay, so using a title like that as a metaphor for losing touch with God and questioning faith isn't very understated. I do like the song though, sliding in-between pop-punk and hardcore, and evocative lyrics.

"This Song is Brought to You by a Falling Bomb" is a brief piano-driven song that really is more of an interlude. Its not a bad song really, but I prefer my songs a little faster when I'm in the mood to listen to this kind of music. On the other hand, the quirky juxtaposition of the soft melody on this song with lyrics describing the overwhelming noise that surrounds us all is fairly interesting. Its just that the song isn't very interesting.

Bringing us to the feeling many have when faced with the lousy job, lousy life, reading the newspapers and seeing nothing in the world worthwhile. Depressed and listless, suicide seems a logical possibility.

Steps ascend to a loaded gun

As the song "Steps Ascending" progresses, a gunshot is fired. In the lyrics, anyway. In the face of the endless horrors of the world, a gunshot is fired. Fun imagery, eh? But its not entirely a sad thing, as, faced with potential death, hope emerges. The final refrain of the song, "I'm not giving up." As a former love lays dying, the once-lost faith re-emerges in the face of hope.

The cacaphony of that song builds up to the dirge-like climax of this album, "War all the Time". While perhaps overly long, the song's steady drum fills and passionate vocals offer an epic quality that certainly borders on comical. But the song's concept is pretty good, using episodes of personal tragedy to bring the World Trade Center episode back down to what it really was, international politics aside.

While we can argue back and forth about many things related to Sept. 11, one thing is certain: a whole lot of people were affected in a manner that has nothing to do with diplomacy, religious hatred, or anything of that nature. For those people, they lost loved ones in a manner over which they had no control. On that level, many of us can comprehend. People die in accidents all the time; its just so pervasive we don't think about it unless a whole lot of them die. Or, it happens to us.

so wave back to those people
who long to wave back
from the fabric of a flag
that sang
love, all of the time

At this point, I suppose its worth mentioning that Thursday is a Christian band, and War All the Time is, most certainly a Christian-themed album. Basically, the theme here is that, in the face of a world full of hopelessness, the best thing to do is to find hope, i.e., find God.

I'm not a Christian, but they do an interesting argument on the big guy's side. Of course, one might be prone (assuming you are like me and enjoy tormenting people) to argue that Christianity has been invoked in all sorts of articles of hate over the years, so it might be a bit hypocritical to argue the religion as an antidote for said malfeasance.

I don't exactly have the members of the band on speed-dial, so I can't say for certain what they might say. But they might bring up the song "M. Shepard". If you don't recall the tale of young Matthew Shepard, he was an "out" gay man in Laramie, Wyoming who murdered in a rather nasty fashion by a couple of unsavory individuals.

The crime wasn't a very pretty thing, to be sure, but to many, the ultimate tragedy of this event came afterward, when the Rev. Fred Phelps (who has a web-site, the none-too-subtle godhatesfags.com) led his congregation to the town to make sure everyone knew that Shepard had died because God hated homosexuality, and punished him. Sounds like a lovely fellow.

Anyway, the song, while heavily laced in odd imagery, says much to point out that, well, um, y'know, killing people isn't really the Godly thing to do! Its a pretty good song, even if it does seem a bit too defensive.

The last track of the album, "Tomorrow I'll Be You", essentially completes the tale of hope in the face of despair, not just living but now loving.

I'll be honest here. Your enjoyment of this album will doubtless be related to your level of enjoyment of music typically labeled as "emo". If you don't like Finch, The Promise Ring, Jimmy Eat World or bands of that nature, this will probably not be up your alley. It also means you probably have a life.

On the other hand, if you write bad poetry, have more than 100 buttons on your purse/backpack, wear cat's eye-shaped glasses, or believe Weezer is the bestest band ever...go ahead and buy this album. You'll probably like it.

Either way, go ahead and read punkrawka's review of the album, and find out why you should hate it. Democracy in action!