As I sit here, eating a late-night bowl of Lucky Charms, I am reminded of simpler times. Eighth grade times, to be exact. Waking up early enough to eat breakfast, riding the bus, and pop-punk. Eighth grade being the year I discovered pop-punk, or what I defined as pop-punk (maybe probably even punk, the point is, it wasn't). Flash forward to 2009, the year I discovered the Max Levine Ensemble. Even with all the catchiness contained within, I feel bad for calling this pop-punk, lest you group it with bands like Sum 41 and New Found Glory. But, I mean, this is such an assault of catchy hooks, bodacious beats, and Spoonboy's voice that it can't really be considered anything else. If you put this on at a party, you can probably expect everyone there to be dancing by the time 'Aren't All Songs Political? Aren't All Songs Vaugely Self-Referential?' comes on. If they aren't, check their pulses.
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As I sit here, eating a late-night bowl of Lucky Charms, I am reminded of simpler times. Eighth grade times, to be exact. Waking up early enough to eat breakfast, riding the bus, and pop-punk. Eighth grade being the year I discovered pop-punk, or what I defined as pop-punk (maybe probably even punk, the point is, it wasn't). Flash forward to 2009, the year I discovered the Max Levine Ensemble. Even with all the catchiness contained within, I feel bad for calling this pop-punk, lest you group it with bands like Sum 41 and New Found Glory. But, I mean, this is such an assault of catchy hooks, bodacious beats, and Spoonboy's voice that it can't really be considered anything else. If you put this on at a party, you can probably expect everyone there to be dancing by the time 'Aren't All Songs Political? Aren't All Songs Vaugely Self-Referential?' comes on. If they aren't, check their pulses.
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