If spotting the words “All-American Rejects” on The Blue Note’s concert calendar shoots a wave of pop-punk excitement through your capillaries, chances are it’s because you can’t wait to finally witness a live performance of “Swing, Swing” or “It Ends Tonight” or “Gives You Hell,” etc. — not because you’re eagerly anticipating a sampling of the newest AAR release (scheduled to drop in March). At least, if you’re anything like me.
The Rejects were my favorite band in middle school, if memory serves me correctly. They were just punk enough to give my Maroon 5-filled MP3 player (gasp, this was pre-iPod) a speck of alternative cred. And they were pop enough to suit an 8th-grader’s lackluster attention span (not that mine has exactly grown in the following six years). But the best thing about AAR was not the still-catchy melodies. (Yes, I checked.) Or the fact that the cute girl in 7th grade health class Sharpied their lyrics on her Converse shoes. The best thing was the angst.
After being raised on some strange amalgamation of Sugar Ray and early Eminem, we ‘90s kids got to live through the golden age of whine pop. Groups like AAR gave every middle schooler their God-given right to, well, act like a middle schooler. Sure, it’s dumb, but I’m glad we got to do it with songs as subtly labeled as “One More Sad Song” and “Don’t Leave Me.” And, better yet, as mature, sensible 20-somethings, we now get the chance to re-live the angst and remember just how juvenile, petty and, above all, awesome it all was.