Bleed American

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Title: Bleed American
By: Jimmy Eat World
Released by: Dreamworks
Released on: 2001
Rating (out of 10): 5
Date: 10/22/2001

Coming Soon To A Bowling Alley Jukebox Near You

Living in the same suburb as fellow emo-boys Jimmy Eat World, I was granted the opportunity to take a field trip in preparation for this review. After all, Ninth and Ash is on the way home from school, and if Jimmy Eat World name-check the crossroads, it must be of some significance.

As I made my way through the rundown Tempe neighborhood, my 1984 Chevy Impala fit right in, bleeding American, 100 percent. Meandering the residential streets within a stone's throw from Arizona State University, I was already suspicious of Ninth and Ash.

After all, the reference comes right after lead singer Jim Adkins sings “Driving the 405 past midnight.” Sorry Jim, but Mesa, Arizona is nowhere near Santa Barbara, and if this isn’t a blatant Death Cab For Cutie rip-off, I don’t know what is. But I digress.

I rolled my eight-four up to Ninth and Ash only to find Casey Moore’s Oyster House. “Well, whatever,” I thought to myself, “Jim drinks on Tuesday nights.” It wasn’t until I turned around that I saw something more poetic. More American.

On the opposite corner of Casey Moore’s rests a vacant house. From the outside, it looks nice enough; comfortable 1960s architecture with a safe buffer-zone of grass. Enough room to keep your space without alienating yourself from your neighbors.

I don’t know if a group of college students couldn’t afford the rent, or if the inside was beyond repair. Either way, as I drove home listening to They Might Be Giants’ “Hey Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had A Deal,” (Jimmy Eat World thanks them too, ya know) it became clearer.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. I’m going to hit up the “sell-out” argument. This is Jimmy Eat World’s third major-label release—an emo sin. No, this is more an argument of form over content. An album so perfectly constructed with nothing underneath. Sadly, a perfect American metaphor.

Perhaps the best comparison I can make to Bleed American is Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem For a Dream. The title track boasts “I'm not alone because the TV's on, yeah/I'm not crazy because I take the right pills,” much like Ellen Burstyn’s character in that cinematic escapade.

Requiem For A Dream was the epitome of eye-candy of the MTV style. It hinted at a deeper message through its form while coming up short in every element of content. Likewise, Jimmy Eat World are the new wave of ear-candy aimed toward MTV.

The form is beyond reproach, which is why it is reproachable. Bleed American is too perfect: a complete studio fabrication, calculated to the milli-beat, yet offering us only plastic. They cleaned up the digital goofiness of Clarity, and even offered us entire songs here. Yet, this being Jimmy Eat World’s best album, it only makes me despise their previous efforts more.

“A Praise Chorus” becomes the microcosm: offering the categories under which every other song can be filed.

Appeal to the least common denominator

Adkins begins with some encouraging advice:

Are you going to live your life wondering
standing in the back, looking around?
Are you going to waste your time thinking
how you’ve grown up
how you missed out?

Jim knows the easiest way to reach an unchallenged audience is through use of second person. Avoiding any confusion of metaphor or cleverness, Jim points his finger at you. He relates to you. Yep, Jim is the new Rivers in sound and theme. Do you know how much he melts thinking about how he “almost touched your hand,” “even at twenty five?” Some pop stars never grow up, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stick with the formula

Both the catchiest song of the bunch, and the most musically enjoyable, Adkins knows that his audience likes the 4/4. Don’t stray from the 4/4. Program everything at the 4/4. Well, sappy songs dedicated in loving memory of friends can stretch to 6/8, but only once per album.

Get the job done yourself

Jim is quite the Renaissance Man, on lead vocals, guitar, and percussion on this track. And that’s not all—he also plays bass, organ, and kindergarten piano before this package is wrapped up. Thom Yorke was right; anyone can play guitar, with enough studio time.

Yet, Adkins reiterates himself on multiple occasions. “My Sundown” is essentially “Goodbye Sky Harbor” with less digitalia and overdubbing and in half the time. And “Cautioners” is “Ten” all over again.

Passively go where others have gone before

Crimson and clover, over and over.
Our house in the middle of the street, why did we ever meet?
Started my rock 'n' roll fantasy.
Don't don't, don't let's start, why did we ever part?
Kick start my rock 'n' roll heart.

Back to the liner notes: “Thank you: They Might Be Giants. Special Thanks to Madness.”

What? No Tommy James? No Mötley Crüe? No John Cougar Mellencamp? Maybe they can get away without mentioning the less-savvy bands. Your typical emo-kid has very little than The Promise Ring’s own Davey Vonbohlen in his music vocabulary. Nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake doesn’t work.

The lesson here is essentially: A little pop never hurt anyone. And Jim is right. “Get It Faster” is the “Bye Bye Bye” to “If You Don’t, Don’t”’s “It’s Gonna Be Me”—with a Spinal Tap solo that would make emo-founders The Replacements shudder. But it’s all in good fun.

The hooks are catchy. The songs are, technically, perfect. Bleed American is the world’s most beautiful paint-by-number. The “art” hanging in your grandparents' dusty den because it looks pretty. It isn’t challenging, for that would defeat the purpose of its agreeability. It’s the painting you get attached to because of its familiarity. Yes, just like the bowling trophies and the cigarette machines, Bleed American clings to the safety of nostalgic America that you’ll have to pry from cold, dead suburban fingers.

© Copyright CultureDose.com 10/22/2001

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