Why must you be so good? You don't help me feel better about myself, my life, or my future. In fact, you make me feel bad. And not naughty-but-exciting-bad or evil-archnemesis-but-worthy-foe-bad. I mean curling-up-in-a-corner- and-then-being-sad- that-i-can't-do-anything- even-just-crying-right bad. Why must your lyrics be so creative and compelling when they are, objectively, about situations and circumstances quite awful. Why must Saves the Day's chords be so angsty but also bubblegummy? Your ironical sense of the world, finding the cloud around every silver lining, is reminiscent of Hemingway or Fitzgerald, but instead of having short sentences or fluid prose, you pile misery upon bad luck.
And yet, I come running. I heart your titles with their poignant combination of literary allusions, pop cultural references, and more words than can fit on one line of my iPod/iTunes/iClaudius interface. I have come to you many a night when the last thing I needed was to dwell on matters now ancient. And you, you with your backing vocals and well-timed-regression-to-acoustic informed me that I still had open wounds by rubbing the salt of your melancholic melodies into them.
But it is time to take a stand. No more will I listen to any album whose subtitle could very well be "50 ways to kill your significant other". Or that tries to sound triumphant through 40 minutes of complaint. Please release from your grasp and take me off your mailing list.
Unless you have new releases forthcoming because, if nothing else, I need new songs to get stuck in my head.
I remain your humble servant, &c.,
Dan Bentley
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