The Get-Up Kids: Something to Write Home About

“We’re not the most successful band in the genre, but some of the people who were into our band went on to be some of the most successful people in the genre,” says singer-guitarist Matt Pryor.

It's true, you can not be an emotive-rock band these days unless you vigorously name-check this band during every single interview you ever do. They are akin to Refused for punk/hardcore, Fugazi for post-hardcore or Nirvana for grunge. Not necessarily the architect of the genre, but the topographer, the one who showed the world which way it needed to go.

Now, ten years after its initial release, we have the anniversary re-issue on our hands. As part of the package you'll also be receiving a 50 minute live DVD performance by the band, access to 7 downloadable demos (not available at time of going to... whatever the online equivalent of 'print' is) and the usual 'unseen' behind-the-scenes footage.

The DVD records a start-to-finish performance of the album with the occasional odd moment, like when the band address the camera directly, ordering it around the venue. We have no idea as to whether that counts as breaking the fourth wall, the third-and-a-half wall or the fifth. It does, however, fulfil the rare task of making you feel a little bit a part of the gig as opposed to being a distant observer. The lofty cameras, close-up angles and generous crowd-footage makes for a compelling addition to the package. It is, you might say, something to write... yeah, let's not do that.

The Album:

It's always quite amusing with such hugely influential albums to go back and see what people thought of it back then. We have the benefit of hindsight here, although we hopefully would have had the good taste to realise that a genuine masterpiece is what we were now sampling.

Some forkin' media outlets were not so insightful. Phrases such as "insipid, mind-numbingly uninspired, adolescent pop, bringing humanity a few inches closer to self- wrought destruction through resignation." and "[t]he band's decision to not sign with a major just makes them seem financially inept in addition to their musical shortcoming. You guys, just sell out! Independent music does not need you." were thrown around. Ironically, the same treatment was meted out to Jimmy Eat World's Clarity, released the same year, back in 1999.

While admittedly, a few of those accusations do have an ounce of truth, to let them saddle the ride seems impetuous to the extreme. This is indeed adolescent music, but not in a negative sense. The album is a perfect summation of the hopes and fears of being young. The confusing maelstrom of ideologies: trust, casual sex, loyalty, love, loss, heartbreak, the future, stress, uncertainty. Untainted by the sheen of reservation, all of these are expounded with the kind of intensity which usually makes the more mainstream-minded listener distinctly uncomfortable, but then, this was the point of emo, before it became about hairstyles and self-involvement.

At the album's close, the words ring out "don't worry I'll catch you, don't ever worry". Any who resist the goosebumps must have the make-up of the robots always depicted on GuK's artwork.

Despite their reputation for mournful piano dirges though, the range of the band is likely to surprise newcomers to the game. "Holiday" tosses the first pitch which a descending pick-slide before roping in ferocious (for pop-rock) flurries of activity. Later on in the album "I'm a Loner Dottie, A Rebel" similarly provides heavy/memorable moments with its vocal scream of "come tomorrow I'll be on my way back home...". Regardless of the amplitude and distortion, the same amount of heart is there on display: not literally, 'cause that would be kind of gross.

If we had to fathom why this album, what made this one so special, we'd posit the following reasons. First of, is the simplicity of the piece. Like all great lyricists Matt Pryor manages to relate to people from all walks-of-life. His prose is unconcerned with flowery speech patterns, or art-school experimentation, he simply manages to convey a resonant topic to his audience without ever coming off as self-pitying or maudlin.

Secondly, we can not forget that we are in the realm of pop, and neither do the band themselves. After a few listens, most albums will give you one or two memorable moments. We'd wager that this one has around 15-20 snippets of time which seem to linger. Whether it be the two previously mentioned, the vocal refrain of "Valentine" ("constants aren't so constant anymore"), the slow, thumping intro to "Long Goodnight", possibly the best use for a tom-drum ever.

Thirdly, there is the diversity of material present. We've already touched on this slightly but it bears repeating now. Most bands who followed in their wake brought out the acoustic guitars for one song per album and counted that as diversity. The Get-Up Kids bring out for acoustic guitars for precisely zero songs, yet with the same palette from which they draw rage, they can also draw loss and mourning. Such diametrically-opposed emotions are not neatly shrink-wrapped in their own songs, but spill out through every vestige of Something to Write Home About. With nary a hare's breath, direction can change as if you possessed a remote control for the four seasons.

Being so influential does have its problems. The weight of expectation for those late to the game can be insurmountable, also the band's in their wake, laying claim to their pathway can dissuade many (who'd listen to Nirvana after hearing Nickelback, Staind and Puddle of Mudd name-check them) yet these are not issues which dampen the appeal of The Get-Up Kids.

You cannot hold them responsible for future atrocities, anymore than you can do so with Leó Szilárd. Like that man, they discovered something special in the materials around them and used it to devastating effect. It's not an epiphany which comes often.