Finally found a place to put my An Horse pillow cases.
Best curtains or best curtains?
THE BEST curtains! -dc
I’ve been sleeping with mine since it arrived.
Everyone’s a critic, and man, are we a tough crowd. When it comes to high-profile albums, us fans are quick to let rampant anticipation shoot our expectations sky-high. But unfortunately, we’re just as quick to turn that excitement into sheer disappointment when records can’t meet their lofty expectations. When expectation and reality butt heads, we don’t exactly give some albums fair shakes.
So here’s a look at ten albums that took a fan beating when they came out, but really just deserve a break. Feel free to reblog with any albums you think need to be championed as underrated masterpieces too!
Say Anything - Anarchy, My Dear
Anarchy, My Dear took a fan pummeling for not being …Is Still a Real Boy, and fans got up in arms over “Admit It!” getting sequeled. But besides the pent-up furor behind “Burn a Miracle,” Anarchy, My Dear finds Max Bemis at his romantic best and in sync with his pop sensibilities. Love-struck tunes like “So Good” and “Say Anything” aren’t songs of youthful rage and rebellion, but then again, this isn’t the same young and angry Max Bemis singing these songs. This is a happily married Bemis with a baby girl on the way, so forgive him for not writing “Futile” all over again. Just take Anarchy, My Dear at face value: a quirky collection of pop-rock jams.
The Ataris - Welcome The Night
So Long, Astoria is the landmark pop-punk album no one remembers: thirteen tracks of achingly nostalgic teenage anthems, gift-wrapped in soaring sing-along choruses and crunchy guitar riffs. After four years of silence, Kris Roe and company released Welcome the Night, a fuzzy, bleak contemplation on life. It pulled a 180 on fans, swapping energy for an ambience of rainy day despair. But it works. Roe turns in an absolutely heartbreaking performance, and it’s perfect listening for hazy winter nights. Don’t expect any road trip sing-alongs like “In This Diary,” and sink right into Roe’s troubled mindset with him.
Yellowcard - Lights And Sounds
If Welcome the Night came out before Lights and Sounds, Yellowcard would’ve suffered from a good case of Ataris-itis. After the feel-good juggernaut that was Ocean Avenue — and all of its bright-eyed youthfulness and beach-soaked power chords — the band dropped the simple melodies of pop-punk and wrote a straightforward alternative rock album. Much maligned as it is, the album was Yellowcard’s coming-of-age story more than Ocean Avenue ever was. Ryan Key’s voice is both fragile and polished, and his lyricism is on point. It stacks up surprisingly well against Yellowcard’s stellar discography.
New Found Glory - Coming Home
Unlike their pop-punk compatriots in Yellowcard or the Ataris, New Found Glory didn’t stray from their roots to sound serious or dark. They diverted from their well-worn pop-punk formula to write a simple pop album. There are no gang vocals, no chunky guitar riffs, and no fast, furious punk songs. Instead, Jordan Pundik is at his most vulnerable, sounding equal parts sincere and heart-on-sleeve romantic, especially on “It’s Not Your Fault” and “Boulders.” It’s not popular opinion, but another album in the Coming Home vein would be more than welcome in New Found Glory’s catalog.
Brand New - Daisy
Daisy was the album every Brand New fan wanted, but not the album every Brand New fan expected. Whereas every last detail of Deja Entendu and The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me felt calculated and mapped out, Daisy cried havoc, opened the creative floodgates and let slip the dogs of war. The venom on Daisy — the aggressive “Sink,” blockbuster single “At the Bottom” — seeps into Jesse Lacey’s vocals, Brian Lane’s frenetic drumming, and Vin Accardi’s unbridled guitar riffs. The pop sensibilities fans missed aren’t gone; just hidden.
Yes to so many of these.
Stripper in Clearwater, FLA showing the judge that her bikini briefs were too large to expose her vagina to the undercover cops that arrested her. The case was dismissed.
I only ever watch 90 Seconds on The Verge when Andrianne Jeffries hosts. I am a creep.
These STADIUMS are MADE of SNACKS. That is all.
OH MY GOODNESS. WHO’S INVITING ME TO THEIR SUPERBOWL PARTY?