This Ain't a Scene

J. Edward Keyes on Shuffle

by J. Edward Keyes

Part price-of-fame memoir, part price-of-love lament, Fall Out Boy's Infinity on High manages to be both surprisingly charming and predictably overcooked. It's also a sign of the times: The record went to No. 1 in its first week, but it only sold 260,000 copies — which is exactly the kind of victory/failure paradox Fall Out Boy adores. Unlike many of their peers, the Chicago quartet opts for self-deprecation over self-loathing. Bassist/lyricist/heartthrob Pete Wentz surveys the group's meteoric rise with a kind of bemused detachment, lancing their complicity in Rock Stardom while still retaining a gee-whiz wonder. He's got a thespian's sensitivity and a fondness for verbal puns, compensating for his riper sentiments with cynical corkers like "I sing the blues/ And swallow them, too."

Fall Out Boy Infinity on High (Island)

!!! Myth Takes (Warp)

The record opens with an unnecessary (and unconvincing) endorsement from Jay-Z before plunging headlong into "Thriller," a pealing, surging ode to car-crash hearts and couch-bound poets. Infinity's first half holds together remarkably well. Vocalist Patrick Stump has the instincts of a soul singer, wailing through the robo-funk of "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race" and the rousing punk-rock pep rally "Hum Hallelujah." It isn't until the orchestra shows up to usher in the intro to "Thnks fr th Mmrs" that things start getting shaky. The record's back end tries to compensate for a paucity of ideas with towering sound. The one late-album bright spot is "The (After) Life of the Party," an OMD via U2 barnstormer that finds Wentz battling anxiety as he watches the object of his affection walk across a room. It's a sparkling heartbreaker that ramps up to a desperate refrain; if it's not released as a single this summer, someone should lose their job.

The New York funk band !!! has no interest in sweetness or softness. The boy/girl encounter that goes down in the early minutes of their grimy, irresistible new record is purely sexual, vocalist Nic Offer pawing his conquest in a cab while she coos "love is love, but a fuck is what this is" into his ear. This is a good metaphor for Myth Takes as a whole. It's all about rhythm and movement; the group perfects a certain ratio of punk and rave and Afrobeat, crafting songs that percolate ominously and build to cacophonous eruptions. In its own way, Myth is as painstakingly produced as the Fall Out Boy record; the difference is that !!! manages to make monotony invigorating.

(j_keyes@citypaper.net)