Critic's Notebook

New Found Glory

Dear PopPunK: Let's cut the shit. The previous decade was yours for the taking. And, for fuck's sake, you took it. Hell, you had your cake and sang it in a song about a lame breakup, too. PopPunK, you started as a group of rambunctious bros who met in high...
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Dear PopPunK: Let’s cut the shit. The previous decade was yours for the taking. And, for fuck’s sake, you took it. Hell, you had your cake and sang it in a song about a lame breakup, too. PopPunK, you started as a group of rambunctious bros who met in high school and formed bands based on your collective shitty tastes in music. Sadly, that is still how things go for you, Florida’s New Found Glory being the epitome of said existence. The members of your bands, PopPunK, are well into their 30s, still dressing like 14-year-olds who hate their stepdads. I get it: The bigger and more popular bands of your genre, PopPunK, have really made bank on their careers. There will always be an awkward, angst-ridden teenage demographic that feels for you, troubadours of PopPunK, and those same fans are the ones that still go out and buy CDs. Your lyrics, sadly, resonate with these kids, even if they have never seen The Outsiders. It’s 2010 now, PopPunK, and I for one want to see you evolve into something new — something fresh and innovative, for once. Make me believe in you.

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