A funny thing happened to
Fall Out Boy on the road to
Infinity on High: they got famous. Before 2005's
From Under the Cork Tree
they were just another pop-punk unit from suburban Chicago happy to
break even at shows with gas money. Next thing anyone knew, they were
headlining arenas and being heralded as the new face of pop-punk
alongside their peers in
My Chemical Romance. It was a position that never seemed to rest easy with the guys, and because of this,
Infinity on High seems a bit conflicted.
Fall Out Boy
wants to charm everyone here. They want to prove themselves to critics
by moving past the confines of emo, allowing a love of all things pop to
come right to the forefront. Yet they also want to resonate directly
with those day-one fans who may long for the intimate VFW shows of
yesterday. This disparity makes points of the record seem awkward, and
for the first time, the band appears to over-think things.
Pete Wentz's
lyrics are oftentimes resentful, full of fame-induced angst, and really
emphasize his need to drive home his position that stardom has not
changed the band. So it's in weird contrast to these sentiments that
Jay-Z is the one opening the album and calling out haters who said
FOB would fail. The glorification of their celebrity abruptly switches into
Patrick Stump
stating (pleading?) that the band is not buying into the hype -- nor do
they even want it. "Make us poster boys for your scene/But we are not
making an acceptance speech" is defiant, and when his sweet voice
asserts, "Crowds are won and lost and won again/But our hearts beat for
the diehards," it's clear that
FOB
still holds their roots close. But this is contradicted by the fact
that the album's majority is far and away their poppiest material to
date, more pop/rock than pop-punk, which inevitably means more
interesting to those who know them just as that "Dance, Dance" band with
the media-whoring bassist,
Pete Wentz.
So the results are hit-and-miss. The
Maroon 5-ish "I'm Like a Lawyer..." is glaringly one of the
Babyface-produced tracks, and with a vocal hook uncomfortably close to
Phil Collins'
cover of "Groovy Kind of Love," it plays like the guys were the ruffled
house band for a prom. It's ill-fitting, a notion that continues in
cuts like the soft rock piano of "Golden" and the airy "The (After) Life
of the Party." But on the flip side, the fizzy urban-pop nugget "This
Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race" dances around double-time hardcore
choruses and backing choral singers with dizzying precision and
infectious results, while dramatic gospel flair excellently lines "Hum
Hallelujah."
Stump's
vocal control and agility is incredible; he truly brings songs alive in
a way uniquely his own, and it's a toss-up as to whether he or drummer
Andrew Hurley should get this record's gold star. So it's not to say the
pop explosion that is
Infinity on High is all bad. Even the studio extravagances -- multiple producers (
Babyface and
Butch Walker handle a few outside
Neil Avron) and decadent layers of horns, string sections, and choirs -- don't detract from its overall enjoyability. Yet unlike
My Chemical Romance, who knew exactly what they wanted in the grand theatrics of 2006's
Welcome to the Black Parade and completely went for it without apology,
Fall Out Boy
is at odds. Previously, they could easily skip around with pop baggage,
hardcore tension, cunning wordplay, and infectious melodies without
losing their edge. Now they just seem too self-aware. Don't
misunderstand: once
Infinity on High
sinks in, it's indeed a fun record. But for a band that was once so
self-assured and able to utilize its talents so compellingly, the album
is regrettably haphazard.
Fall Out Boy
may hate people who "dissect us 'til this doesn't mean a thing
anymore," but in trying to appeal to all of them, they lost something
unique along the way.
tags: fall out boy, infinity on high, 2007, flac,
