Pissing on The Black Parade

I was a little concerned that the time to review My Chemical Romance's concept album had passed, but Blender just named it the best album of 2006, so I figure it's vaguely topical again.

I've been listening to The Black Parade for the past month and a half, trying to decide if I love it outright or if I've got to qualify the love somewhat. Ultimately, qualification won out; it's a great album, absolutely fantastic in parts, but the nit-picker in me can't leave certain things alone.

On the one hand, I've got to give them major props for putting out a full-on concept album at all; not many folks do that anymore. The Black Parade is supposed to be about a character called simply The Patient facing his death in a hospital bed. And again, props for undertaking the subject matter at all. But I run into a bit of a problem with the perspective on death offered by all the songs.

From what I've seen, a fair amount of self-pity is to be expected (and completely understood) in the dying as they get used to their prognosis, and the album certainly delivers on that count. But in general, once the dying accept the whole end-of-life enchilada, their focus broadens and they tend to reach out to their loved ones, taking some comfort in the fact that life and love will continue even after their passing. As experienced by MCR, though, death is a majorly self-centered undertaking (albeit with some lovely chord progressions). So while The Black Parade doesn't really work as an album about death, I think it works splendidly as an album about addiction.

From the first words of "The End," the track that begins the album, The Patient is demanding the attention of everyone around him: "Now come one, come all to this tragic affair." Later, a verse climaxes with "When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all!" Let's see, nihilism, narcissism -- yup, sounds like an addict, all right.

Each of the songs nails the various aspects of addiction; "Dead!" continues in the nihilistic vein, pondering "Wouldn't it be great if we were dead?" to a jaunty beat. "The Sharpest Lives" captures the nature of the drug-buddy relationship, even admitting "I've really been on a bender and it shows." I was impressed with how "I Don't Love You" managed to both beg a loved one to leave while they could yet also twist the knife, asking them to admit they didn't love The Patient anymore. It's a passive-agressive masterpiece.

Some critics have singled out "Mama" as being indicative of the band's sense of humor, and it definitely has an absurdist streak a mile wide. It's a nutty, Fiddler-on-the-Roof-meets-Queen-style polka set in the middle of a war and featuring a cameo by Liza Minelli. But it totally fits the addiction paradigm, as The Patient is blaming his mother for all of his woes, feeling besieged by the world around him and wishing he had never been born. The fact that Minelli herself has legendarily struggled with substance abuse just adds a layer to the metaphor.

The album closes triumphantly with "Famous Last Words," in which The Patient gains some kind of victory, although for the life of me, I'm not sure what that victory was supposed to be. The coda ends with the lines "Awake and unafraid, asleep or dead," and I'm not sure what to do with that. The first time I heard the song, I thought it was "Awake and unafraid of sleep or death," and that made perfect sense. But as they're written, the last lines seem not only murky but kinda self-defeating. Here's the song performed live for AOL Sessions:

(Wouldn't it work much better as "of sleep or death"? I'm just saying.) This clip captures my main problem with MCR: As a vocalist and lyricist, Gerard Way isn't really pulling his weight. At the end there, guitarist Ray Toro is playing and singing his heart out, putting the band's huffy lead vocalist to shame, and even the camera operator seems to realize that, cutting Way out of the frame to focus on Toro.

I tend to be pretty hard on lyricists and singers, 'cause I can write and carry a tune with some degree of competence, and I figure if I can do it, what's their excuse? (I already know that that makes me an asshole; don't worry.) Throughout The Black Parade, the music itself -- the notes and chords -- is consistently great. Whenever the album fails to connect with me, I can trace the failure to Way's unfortunate lyrical choices or his constant vocal sneer.

For instance, "Cancer" would have been a great ballad were it not for the lyric "I'm just soggy from the chemo." As a general rule, "soggy" should simply not appear anywhere in a song. It's just not a lyrical word, and while I realize that Way was probably going for a brutal image, there are ways of getting that across without resorting to "soggy." "Soggy" just stops your song's momentum completely, and the emotional response it cues isn't so much "wow, that's rough" as it is "ew, wet mop in aisle 4."

Way's vocal tone also dulls the album's impact in places, as his voice seems to lack any hint of tenderness. There's a snarling, nasal tone to his singing, which serves some songs perfectly but really hamstrings others. Earlier in his career, Way was tight with Bert McCracken from The Used, and I wish he'd picked up some vocal pointers from McCracken. I mean, he's kind of a mess and probably not the easiest guy to work with, but McCracken can go from an intimate whisper to a tonsil-rupturing scream and make them feel equally immediate. Plus, the little freak can carry a tune live, something Way isn't terribly good at. Here are the two of them performing in 2005 to benefit tsunami victims:

I barely know where to begin with the problems in Way's performance. For starters, you're playing a damn benefit, so take off the shades there, Miles Davis. Next up, if you're going to take the Freddie Mercury part, you'd better have the vocal chops to handle it. Also, McCracken does a much better job of engaging and energizing the audience, while Way seems kinda standoffish. (I honestly don't know why The Used aren't much bigger; I think they've got some great songs. The next time they play here, I'll undoubtedly be the oldest person in the audience who isn't chaperoning children.)

Like I said, I know I'm being hard on Way, but it's so frustrating to have an album come as close to greatness as The Black Parade does, only to stop short because the front man isn't quite the equal of his bandmates. I'm hoping that he develops his voice and his ability to turn a phrase in the coming years. Way has griped about being viewed as just a pretty face in a clever get-up, but if he's serious about making a contribution that's more musical than visual, he might want to consider becoming a better singer than the band's lead guitarist.

Comments

[Christy]

Found your blog through CPMCoG (I'm svetlanamonsoon there) and have been checking in on it. Having known the Way brothers and co when they were singing in dive bars in Northern NJ and generally being a supporter of MCR I have to agree with your review of the album. It's an amazing concept that just isn't very well executed. The song "The Black Parade" has grown on me so I still hold out a little hope that the rest of the album might.

[Cath]

Hey, Svet! Thanks for the comment; I know I'm ragging a bit on Gerard, but I have faith that he'll improve. He mentioned in Blender that his resolution for '07 is to quit smoking, and that can only help. My favorite number off the album is probably "Sleep"; it pulls off a great combination of wistfulness and horror. Happy New Year, girl!

[Alanna]

Gerard Way quit drinking, and smoking. He has worked so hard and has been through alot in his life. He ACTUALLY sings in the music video and gives everything he does 110 percent, so maybe next time you'd think before you criticize one of the most awsome bands in the history of goth and emo rock!!!

[Paul]

To me the best album of 2006 is Stadium Arcadium by the Red Hot Chili Pepper. They're #1 on http://www.rankopedia.com.