The Fiction
I Told Her That I Like Living In A Box
3.7
I have really enjoyed Level Plane’s offerings so far this year: Anodyne, The Minor Times, Amanda Woodward and to some extent, A Day in Black & White have all been worthwhile releases, so it makes sense they would have to release a stinker at some point. And here it is.
The only way to describe The Fiction is a sort of snotty, discordant, fit throwing punk rock, that’s grating and abusively obnoxious. It comes across like a petulant, tantrum throwing kid - loud, annoying and patience wilting. But unfortunately I can’t beat the piss out of The Fiction so I’m reduced to giving you my unimportant opinion and thankfully hitting the ‘stop’ button.
Whereas Level Plane’s offering have been gracefully aggressive (Amanda Woodward), acidically dissonant (The Minor Times) and spasmodically creative (Anodyne), The Fiction seem content to stutter and jerk with an ADHD sense of hysterical screamo laced histrionics.
The main culprit is the pre pubescent screams of Colin and Dima, the guitarist and bassist who, while no doubt angry at the world, just come across as face reddening and frenzied, rather than emotive and genuinely filled with rage. The music treads the same Ritalin deprived spastic dissonance that is neither cleverly arranged nor creatively technical. It wanders with DEP dreams and Converge illusions of spiraling intricacy, but (In part due to a wickedly treble heavy production) the end result is more like Green Day or Good Charlotte with PMS and a bottle of Dexedrine.
Of course, what off kilter screamo album would be complete without the nonsensical song titles? Along with the album title you get such teen angst rife anthems as “I’m a Supporting Character in the Movie of my Life”, the doubtful, “I Once Had Sex with a Girl
(and I'll never forgive myself)” and the intrinsically mysterious, only known to the band, “a=a”. Even the sudden Smiths/Cure like tones of somber album closer “Ceremony” are flat, and devoid of real emotion that you can feel through the music - every element on this album seems forced and spewed forth from the minds of alternative school students.
Despite a pretty lengthy discography and a no doubt cult following, I find The Fiction to be derivative, monotonous and annoying even for all its squealing and flailing narcissism.
