Lifetime, Lifetime... (Decaydance/Fueled by Ramen)
Slip… Crack… Fuck!
By Ray Wroblewski (February, 2007)
Mel: “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, the new Lifetime, it's in my car”
Ray: “WHAT!”
(Books out bedroom, books out front door, hurdles ice patch in... slip... crack... fuck!... street.
Well not the whole thing.
Gets up, looks to see if anyone caught it, nope, good, wipes off, goes inside, shows Mel Ray's dedication to Lifetime... really just a bloody fingertip… rips Lifetime’s, Lifetime to iPod, listens to it the next day… all day… tracks 1, 3, 5, 10… over and over and over.)
Lifetime, the forefathers of post hardcore, in their heyday, were fucking genius. Influencers to these new pussy bands, that mean’s you No Trigger, you assholes like to listen to now a days.
But the new album...
sad, but true…
is better.
It FUCKING KILLS the old shit!
After a decade vacation, Lifetime returns not in wheelchairs or with walkers, but with a little less hair and a lot more balls. Stylistically the same, but somehow different, Lifetime, I can’t explain it, hits somewhere Lifetime hasn’t hit before. The band, alongside their music, I don’t know, got older... duh… got wiser... sure… matured... okay… got who-the-fuck-cares-the-only- thing-that-matters-is-their-back… YES!
Now settle down people, you can still hear the old Lifetime in the new… lead singers voice still resembles a 12-year-old girl’s, even higher, which explains the cover art, however, his falsetto, or octave, or range or something has gone askew… in a good way.
Blah, blah, blah… words, words, words… moral of the story is…
(Set to the tune of “My Boyfriends Back” by the Angels)
Life • time’s back and there’s gunna be trouble… Ohhh-Yeaahhh, Ohhh-Yeeaaahhhhhhh… Lifetime’s back!
Wow, that wasn’t gay or anything… whatever… anyways… put down the Fallout Boy, get your ass outside, slip on some goddamn ice, and pick yourself up some real goddamn music… it’s called Lifetime, Lifetime you turd, now fuck off.
