Reviews

This took some balls. It can’t quite be put any more literally than that.  I could say something profound and beautiful, but honestly, that’s all I’ve got. Like them, love them or hate them, this band makes magic happen. Not magic as in UFO’s and things that disappear, but magic in the sense that if you believe in this band, you might start believing in art and literature and the way music doesn’t always have to sound generic and bland. Gatsbys American Dream didn’t need to give this record a title; it says everything it has to in the simplest way possible. And if you give this band a chance, for some, maybe a first chance, you might start to see and understand why I so unabashedly adore this music.    
 
In October 2005, I interviewed guitarist Bobby Darling in what was to become one of my most cherished interviews to date.  “We see music as art,” he said. “Art is something that you shouldn’t be perverting or ruining or selling because it’s the one good thing we have.” Less than a year later, the band releases their self titled criticism of the very industry that makes that art possible.  All subtleties were cast aside as the band brought in their well known taste for literary references and applied them to built up hostility towards the music industry. Actually, hostility is the wrong word; because there’s no anger, really. It’s more an outpouring from a group of disheartened musicians who got themselves into what turned out to be far from what they were expecting.  This record seems to be about being disappointed not only in other people, but also in yourself.  It’s a lesson in trust; and trust me, the music is phenomenal as well.  Loved for their upbeat rock songs without choruses, Gatsbys American Dream take that unique style a bit further.  
 
The band eliminates all unnecessary components to reveal eleven clear-cut individual melodies that both stand strong on their own and blend together into the overall theme of the album.    The band takes stabs at the scene with lines like “I hate this place and all these guys with their fancy clothes/It doesn’t seem like music at all,” and throws out a forewarning to young, enthusiastic, baby-bands in the song, “Badd Beat” with the lines: “You fucking kids have gotta learn the golden rules/1. You gotta use who you can on your way to the middle/2. You only give a favor for a favor in return/3. You get burned when you turn the other cheek/P.S. we don’t think you kids are so naïve/ To think that things could change/Because nothing ever changes in the Real World/And we’re gonna drive that message home/Because money fills the gas tank in your van.”   
 
Three years after my first encounter with Gatsbys American Dream, I am more impressed with their integrity and their sophistication than ever.  They stood up for themselves and for their music and after three years, I’m finally starting to figure out what’s special about them.  God damn, I love this band. There’s nothing stereotypical about them; they can’t be classified and they can’t be ignored.  For once, there’s a shred of honesty in music as close to mainstream as it can probably get.  This is Gatsbys American Dream.