My Chemical Romance Mug

A member of the tremendous battalion of lame New Jersey post-hardcore/power pop/blargh/pseudo-genre bending radio-friendly over-produced bands that have recently broken into the American mainstream in an unexpected manner. One of the many bands who are worshipped by legions of former preps who now wear studded belts, Chuck Taylors, and check their Myspace account every six minutes. Fans of My Chemical Romance are usually in-between everything. They're too "refined" to like Linkin Park, Korn, and other ultra-mainstream angst-peddlers but too dense and flat to really do much more than haphazardly dabble in bands that are somewhat more challenging to get into, such as pre-"Dark Side of the Moon" Pink Floyd and Sonic Youth. My Chemical Romance is mainly at home in combining the sad-sack tendencies of emo lyrics and the overbearing self-absorption found therein (yes I know they're not emo you fucking idiots, emo is a very specific style of music that for all practical purposes has been dead for a few years. But you're truly a moron if you don't think they at least borrow some elements of that genre) with the overdone theatrics of prog rock and metal while having absolutely none of the virtuosity associated with those genres. Makes use of the same limp musicianship that is present in every other generic "dynamic" or "emotional" (short for "not really good at anything") rock band currently making 16 year old girls with glasses and acne cream their pants across the country. Speaking of their lyrics, this band is nothing special when compared to their peers while absolutely awful compared to somewhat decent bands. One of the "good songs" another person mentioned in another definition contains the following lyrics: " And if they get me and the sun goes down into the ground And if they get me take this spike to my heart and And if they get me and the sun goes down And if they get me take this spike and You put the spike in my heart And if the sun comes up will it tear the skin right off our bones And then as razor sharp white teeth rip out our necks I saw you there Someone call the doctor, someone get me to a church Where they can pump this venom gaping hole And you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat And if they come and get me You put the spike in my heart" Good God. Nothing but lame, weak metaphors about hearts, souls, secrets, gaping holes in all three, and other asinine, pretentious bullshit that is showcased in most songs in this God-forsaken genre. Overblown, meandering pablum that doesn't really even mean anything.