#and the fact that the outro song (come along with me) is so ambiguous that it can apply to any form of love

[evil-cats]

what I love about adventure time is that it has such a strong focus on just. love. And it treats all forms of love as being equally important and beautiful. Platonic, romantic, familial and found family relationships are all the basis of so many concurrent love stories over the course of the show and that notion isn’t treated as contradictory or unusual at all! Adventure time is a show about love and ykw? I love that :)

[earlgreytea68]

This post got me thinking about Pete and religion.

Fall Out Boy lyrics are full of Christian religious imagery. You kind of get the impression that Pete was raised in a household where he was just casually surrounded by all of this STUFF, that he absorbed and turned over in his lyrics. I mean, “Knock once for the Father, twice for the Son, three times for the Holy Ghost”... (West Coast Smoker).

He’s preoccupied by Heaven as an exclusive party. The idea shows up again and again. The Black Cards (I *love* the Black Cards stuff, I need to devote a whole thing to Black Cards at some point) have an entire song called “A Club Called Heaven.” On “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Fame,” “Heaven’s got a gate full of metal detectors.” On “Thriller,” he shows up with his plus one to the afterlife.

But Pete’s not entirely sure he’s getting into that party. In fact, usually Pete puts himself in Hell: He might be dancing in a club called Heaven, but he knows the doorman in Hell personally. The road to his house is paved with good intentions in Hum Hallelujah (which is, of course, traditionally what the road to Hell is paved with); “we’re just Hell’s neighbors” in America’s Suitehearts (if we’re not in Hell, we’re right next door, and that could be Heaven but I don’t think so). To get on St. Peter’s list, you need to lower your standards, says Rat-a-Tat. This is what Pete Wentz lyrics do, a simple sentence like that is LOADED with meaning. Because after all, his name is Peter, and it could be Peter Wentz’s list he’s referring to there, and it could also be the list to get into Heaven, and it could be that getting on Peter Wentz’s list doesn’t actually take that much (lower your standards, I’m never getting any better than this) and it could be that it’s St. Peter at the gates of Heaven who needs to lower *his* standards (again: I’m never getting any better than this).

(My absolute favorite Heaven/Hell lyric, though, is when Pete throws in Purgatory, that place in Catholicism where you go to do penance for your sins before you’re let into Heaven: On w.a.m.s. Pete writes, “My head’s in Heaven, my soles are in Hell, let’s meet in the Purgatory of my hips.” The glorious beauty of the sex innuendo being the *purgatory*: what you have to get yourself through to get to actual Heaven. ugh, Pete Wentz kills me sometimes with the way he uses words.)

He left his conscience pressed between the pages of the Bible in the drawer, but what did it ever do for him? So asks XO, and the gorgeously ambiguous phrasing of those lines KILLS ME. What’s the antecedent to the “it”? His conscience, sure, that’s what he’s thrown carelessly in the drawer. WITH THE BIBLE. Which could also be the “it”: What did that whole faith thing ever get me anyway?

But he wants it *so badly.* My second favorite lyric from Hum Hallelujah (a song that is nothing but excellent lyrics is “I love you in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital.” There is SO MUCH packed into that line. SO, SO MUCH. And one of the things in there is the ambiguous irresistibility of faith: Sure, maybe the chapel is a last-ditch effort when nothing else works, or maybe that chapel is the ONLY thing that works and the only thing that matters in the whole place. I love you like that, like I don’t know if you’re all I’ve got left or you’re the only thing that matters, and I don’t know which it is but wow, either way, it would be great if you gave me a sign. Ugh that liiiiiine. “Have you ever wanted to disappear and join a monastery?” asks 20 Dollar Nose Bleed.

“I will never believe in anything again,” says (Coffee’s for Closers), but who really believes that? The temptation of belief creeps up in between the proclamation (”kick drum beating in my chest again,” “preach electric to a microphone stand”), undercutting it in the same way that its over-repetition in the song starts to ring hollow (Pete doth protest too much). The comfort that religious people get from their faith in God, Pete wants that. But he can’t get there. He’s always hedging his bets (“in case God doesn’t show” --Thnks fr th Mmrs). He’s always doubtful of God’s good intentions if He is there (”when the world ends, will God go down with it?” --What a Catch, Donnie).

So he tries to find substitutes for this faith he doesn’t have. “My words are my faith,” says Hum Hallelujah, but then, immediately afterward, “To hell with our good name,” so that’s how much actual trust he thinks you should place in that. “We’re a bull and your ears are a china shop.” Look at what a mess my words can make in there if you let them in; that’s what faith does to you, buddy. His gospel is the gospel of giving up (Arms Race). “Follow the disorganized religion of my head,” says West Coast Smoker. “I can work a miracle,” boasts Uma Thurman. “I’m the holy water you have been without,” says Fourth of July.

But he’s not really what he wants to believe in. “We’re saints just swimming in our sins,” Twin Skeleton’s reminds everyone. “If we pray to the Lord,” goes the outro on w.a.m.s., “does he sing on a stage?” Maybe rock and roll is what he should be believing in? “I’m the last damn kid still kicking who still believes,” claims Save Rock and Roll. “I will defend the faith, going down swinging.”

All of which brings us to MANIA. Religion, faith, belief is ALL OVER MANIA. In fact, the entire album is constructed as a journey toward finding the thing you believe in, the thing you have faith in, and finally settling in to cling tight to it. The first song on the album, Stay Frosty, Royal Milk Tea, is struggling with loss of things to believe in: “All my childhood heroes have fallen off or died.” (Champion later has the same theme: “I’m young enough to still believe, but young enough not to know what to believe in.” The most explicit Pete has ever been about his journey toward faith.) But then, in the second song, Last of the Real Ones, the lyrics have found someone to revolve around, someone to be with forever: “the ultra-kind of love,” that ultimate faith. But it’s not quite there yet. There’s doubt in there. “Tell me I’m the only one even if it’s not true.” “There’s been a million before me.” The bridge is expert Fall-Out-Boy song ambiguity. “I’m done with having dreams, the thing that I believe / you drain the fear from me.” Is that “I believe that you drain the fear from me”? Or is that “I’m done with the thing that I believe”? The song’s phrasing lets it be both at once, both a proclamation of faith and a proclamation of doubt, all at the same time.

But things get better. We eventually get to “Church.” An entire song where the religious imagery is pitched toward love (or blowjobs, like, same thing, maybe, for Pete Wentz). “If YOU were church, I’d get on my knees, confess my love, I’d know where to be, my sanctuary, you’re holy to me,” is the refrain of the whole song. It can’t get any clearer than that. Pete Wentz has found what he wants to believe in, and it’s the YOU (whoever that might be ahem just saying that in “Sunshine Riptide,” the she says “I love you ‘til I don’t,” while the You is the “truest feeling yet”). The other enduring theme in MANIA is fakeness and pretend: fake tears, fake friends, people you’re pretending with and around. That theme shows up in Church, too: “I’ve got a few more fake friends and it’s getting hard to know what’s real.” But in Church the proclamation of faith is in the chorus, which means that no matter how anxious Pete gets himself in the lyrics, he resolves back to the central belief: I’ve got you, I know where I should be. YOU’RE what’s real, right here, forget everyone else. 

AND THEN we get Heaven’s Gate. Which revisits Pete’s favorite idea that Heaven is a party he’s going to have to try to crash. But here the song is all about how he’s no longer aimlessly looking for something to believe in; he’s found it: “I’m a missile that’s guided to you.” Maybe he’s gotten it wrong, that he’s chosen the You as his thing to believe in, that the only thing he wants is Your love, but if he’s gotten it wrong, he’s got faith the You is going to get it right and give him the boost he needs into Heaven. “Honey, please come through” and take me along with Your awesomeness, because I’ve decided it’s You I’m going to follow, Your dreams I’m going to make come true, and I’m not going to try to detox from You anymore, I’m just going to go all-in on this whole thing, and in the end, if I don’t make it on the list, will You slip me a wristband?

The album closes out with Young and Menace, with “I’ve lived so much life I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice,” which is such a beautiful bookend to “I read about the afterlife but I never really lived” in Saturday, like, ugh, that always kills me, look how far Pete Wentz has come, and then finally into Bishop’s Knife Trick: “I’m yours, ‘til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away.”

Let’s go back to the places that we never should have left.

Idk, maybe you could read this as: Pete Wentz finally found something to believe in, and it ended up being the person who hasn’t left his side in 20 years, the person he’s never had to pretend with, the person who’s been there through all the fake friends, the person who’s golden and amazing and DEFINITELY going to get it right when Pete doesn’t. I mean, maybe you could read it this way.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

‘Fine Line’ - Harry Styles REVIEW: Finding His Balance

“When I played it for the label, I told them, ‘This is the first single. It’s two minutes, thirty-five. You’re welcome,’” Harry Styles recalls when discussing “Lights Up” in a track-by-track breakdown of his second solo studio effort, Fine Line, with Rolling Stone writer Rob Sheffield. Thank you, indeed. “Lights Up” was an excellent first single choice for a number of reasons, now all the more clear in the context of the album. Though oddly structured and not particularly radio-friendly, it’s interesting, catchy, short and to the point: as much as you try to hide who you are, once the lights are up, those watching will know, so you might as well shine; but do you know?

Just as importantly, does Harry? Fine Line is a vague exploration of the self, both personally and musically, filled with cryptic platitudes and slick guitar riffs. However, the one aspect of himself Styles seems to be most acquainted with, and thus most comfortable sharing, is the “dark running through” his heart that cannot be extinguished by all the lights; in fact, it is amplified. Perhaps Styles finds it difficult to be honest in his relationships, but Fine Line is sprinkled with dark confessions, most notably in a series in the middle of the album (immediately following “Lights Up”): “I can tell that you are at your best / I’m selfish so I’m hating it” in “Cherry,” a track of spewing bitter jealousy; “There’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands” in “Falling,” a heart-wrenching ballad for the books; “I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch / who can’t admit when he’s sorry,” in the pleasant-sounding yet morose ditty “To Be So Lonely.”

Those confessionals are the strongest demonstrations of Styles’s songwriting potential, and are the meat and bones of Fine Line’s takeaway: losing someone you once loved can cause you to almost lose yourself. Hopefully, you find yourself along the road to healing; but Styles often leaves the listener wondering if he really does know who he is now or not. What we do know is two things: 1) The end of his last relationship caused a lot of pain and introspection and 2) The man likes to have sex. Understandable points. Good equation for a successful album.

BEST TRACK: “Fine Line”

The title track and closer, “Fine Line” immediately invokes emotion as soon as it begins, and it only intensifies throughout its six-minute and eighteen-second duration. As the song moves along, new elements are subtly and meticulously added, layered in with his low and almost careful singing in a way that sounds like nature. Around four minutes in, the song really starts to come alive, the instrumentation building and building towards an outro that reaches a crescendo at Styles’s final “we’ll be alright,” and then perfectly finishes with high-pitch vocal notes that feel like freedom before it drifts out with a few light piano notes. While its message about maintaining balance on the fine line between the extremes of love resonates, the real victory of this song is its ability to move you with just the music. Despite its length, it always feels like it ends too soon.

WEAKEST TRACK: “Golden”

While a pleasant-sounding opener and a good tone-setter for the rest of the record sonically, “Golden” could have been cut in half, with about twenty fewer repetitions of the title, and used as more of brief introduction or interlude instead. In contrast to the closer, “Fine Line,” which is the longest song on the album and includes just as much- if not more- repetitions of its title, it serves a purpose in that song, whereas in “Golden” it feels like filler. This monotonous track is the most prominent example of how often Styles’s lyrics seem to be lacking; he surely has the ability to improve, he just needs to access it.

THE IN-BETWEENS

Luckily for Styles, the production on this album is so outrageously good that it’s enough to keep you interested throughout. “She,” a six-minute psychedelic rock song is an epic trip (I mean, Styles’s guitarist, Mitch Rowland, wrote it on mushrooms, go figure) into a daydream with the perfect woman who doesn’t exist. “Canyon Moon” is a road-trip-ready, light, feel-good song where his musical influences are rather apparent; Styles cites Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills, and Nash as his muses, and another idol of his, Steve Nicks, claims it to be her favorite track on the record, a lovely feat. The pre-released singles “Lights Up,” “Watermelon Sugar,” and “Adore You” are sincerely all pop perfection, more mature and refined from his 1D days. The most experimental track, “Treat People With Kindness,” is interesting but falls short for a song that feels like years in the making, considering it has been a phrase Styles and his fans have claimed for the past few years. Although it is clear that Styles’s intention with the song was to spread a positive message which focuses on being kind and not taking life too seriously (though he proclaims that “if our friends all pass away / it’s okay,” and…I don’t know, is it really okay, Harry?!?) it feels like he could have done more with it. One particularly good line is towards the end of the track when he sings, “all we ever want is automatic all the time,” and perhaps he could’ve taken his own advice and given a song with such a grand title a bit more effort.

BEST PROSPECTIVE SINGLE: “Falling”

A close second to “Fine Line,” “Falling” is one of the strongest in Styles’s solo discography and more impressive considering he wrote it in about twenty minutes in a towel. In this beautiful ballad, Styles opens his heart, grabbing the listener’s in the process. “What am I now? / What if I’m someone I don’t want around?” he sings in a panic. This moment of self-reflection after the end of a relationship truly settles in as reality and you can no longer look away from your mistakes is painfully relatable. This track is the most honest of the bunch, and thus feels necessary. With all the previously mentioned pop jams already aptly released as singles, “Falling” feels like the wisest choice going forward to keep the momentum; listeners love a man openly grieving a heartbreak and taking responsibility for his actions (even cheating, I suppose, as is mildly implied in the first verse…I mean, this is your mans? Good thing his regret sounds sincere at least), and the unbelievable tone of his voice when he belts the last word of the bridge, “and I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again” is just the icing on the cake.

                                                                   ***

It is always a difficult task for a former group member to come into their own as a solo artist, and very few have done so with the admiration and reverence that Styles has accrued thus far. With his self-titled debut solo record in 2017, Styles made it clear, as most group-departing members do, that he had a sound different from that of his claim to fame in One Direction. His seriousness as a musician was now established through the positive reception of his debut, and thus his success allowed him to have a little more fun on Fine Line. It also allowed him to get a little more candid and authentic, knowing that the world has accepted him with open arms and has been begging for more. Styles mostly delivers with Fine Line, but in some ways it feels unfinished. The musical production is intriguing and exciting, and by far the best thing about this album, but is still somewhere between a regeneration of classic inspirations and a sound unique to Styles himself; all he needs is a little more time to find his own signature style (no pun intended) rather than just creating a conglomerate of musical elements from his influences and signing his name. But in the meantime, the music still holds up. The real conundrum is the lyrics, which are well and fine, but do not effectively communicate the truth hiding behind the sentiments yet give you just enough to let him get away with it. If he had given us just a bit more, Fine Line could have been a true triumph. However, this is only his second album, and being a confessional songwriting superstar while still preserving your right to privacy is, well, a fine line to walk (I had to, I’m sorry!), but I’m sure he’ll find his balance in no time. Grade: 3.5/5

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I was a very casual One Direction fan during their peak of fame. I think Midnight Memories is a great pop album and I stand by that. I’ve always been more of a Niall girl, but I have never been able to completely resist Harry’s charisma; I’m only human. I listened to his debut album in 2017 maybe twice, three times at most, and just thought it was fine, but not particularly impressive. But since then it’s been impossible to deny his talent and star power. I was very intrigued by “Lights Up,” and with every single release I had found myself enjoying the songs more than I wanted to admit. I think Fine Line is a really great album. Sonically, it is in my exact sweet spot of the kind of music I absolutely love, so I was doomed to like it from the start. What stopped me from giving it a grade of 4 or higher though was that even with multiple listens I struggle to understand what the hell this guy is trying to say in his music. Many times, it takes me reading what die-hard stans say to understand what message he’s trying to send. Unfortunately, that is a failure to me. I know plenty of people love cryptic and ambiguous lyrics or poetry, but as a consumer, I want to be able to understand the story or the message with at least a couple of listens. Of course, lyrics can and should be left up to interpretation, but sometimes I don’t even know what he wants me to interpret! From my perception, this is just a reflection of Harry holding back from truly saying what he wants (with few exceptions, such as “Falling”). I think he is so talented and has so much potential but just needs a little more time unlocking it. I’m excited to see what he does in the future.