Review: Good Luck Everybody - AJJ
By Zach Zollo
Hope is dead.
...or at least that's how AJJ feel when faced with the state of the world. On their latest outing, Good Luck Everybody, the folk-punk stalwarts tackle all things entrenched in the US of A with visceral wit and exceptional fervor. As written on their Bandcamp, the explicit theme of Good Luck Everybody is simple: "basic human connection is the path to our collective return to sanity." While there's potential for a sense of optimism to exist within this message, it would be wishful thinking to assume Sean Bonnette and Ben Gallaty have delivered something uplifting. Rather, they have distilled their fear and nihilism into an exasperated surrender of a record.
Once again, AJJ's lyrics are the central focus, rooted in weathered beliefs as much as they are snide observation. Opening track "A Poem" proclaims "songs are just commercials for awful, ugly people who want your money, and your attention, and all your love," reminding you with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge that "if you don't give it to them, they'll starve." It immediately sets the tone for what's to come, as second track "Normalization Blues" captures the zeitgeist of the Trump age with an unparalleled level of blunt aggression.
While they've always been political, Good Luck Everybody displays the band's ideals more potently than ever before. This potency is unquestionably a result of the dejection this record produces. "No Justice, No Peace, No Hope" holds American accountable for its atrocities, while simultaneously reaffirming the belief that goodness isn't inherent. "Mega Guillotine 2020," with a twinkling melody and chiming bells, delivers an amusingly catchy hook that makes clear the band's desire for the return of a Reign of Terror.
Other topics addressed on the record include body dysmorphia (the appropriately titled "Body Terror Song"), mourning ("Your Voice, As I Remember It), and not being a dick ("Loudmouth"). If there's any light that shines through the abyss of this record, it's when Bonnette dedicates songs on the record to his dog, Maggie ("Maggie," "A Big Day for Grimley"). While cute and (partially) heartwarming, in both instances, the connection expressed between man and man's best friend illustrates how the love for your pet may be the only genuine connection man has left. Ruff.
Of all the art themed around the disasters of this political era, Good Luck Everybody feels the most vindictive. It dissects everything that's terrible, but doesn't outline a truly worthwhile solution beyond its aforementioned theme. It's certainly not platitudinal, but by asserting an "oh well, every person for themself" mentality, this record doesn't hold much weight beyond its snaps back to reality. Hopefully, as the band intended from the beginning, this record will become a dated relic of an era when hope died. Take it as a warning: in the most important election year of the modern world, we can't let it stay that way.
...or at least that's how AJJ feel when faced with the state of the world. On their latest outing, Good Luck Everybody, the folk-punk stalwarts tackle all things entrenched in the US of A with visceral wit and exceptional fervor. As written on their Bandcamp, the explicit theme of Good Luck Everybody is simple: "basic human connection is the path to our collective return to sanity." While there's potential for a sense of optimism to exist within this message, it would be wishful thinking to assume Sean Bonnette and Ben Gallaty have delivered something uplifting. Rather, they have distilled their fear and nihilism into an exasperated surrender of a record.
Once again, AJJ's lyrics are the central focus, rooted in weathered beliefs as much as they are snide observation. Opening track "A Poem" proclaims "songs are just commercials for awful, ugly people who want your money, and your attention, and all your love," reminding you with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge that "if you don't give it to them, they'll starve." It immediately sets the tone for what's to come, as second track "Normalization Blues" captures the zeitgeist of the Trump age with an unparalleled level of blunt aggression.
While they've always been political, Good Luck Everybody displays the band's ideals more potently than ever before. This potency is unquestionably a result of the dejection this record produces. "No Justice, No Peace, No Hope" holds American accountable for its atrocities, while simultaneously reaffirming the belief that goodness isn't inherent. "Mega Guillotine 2020," with a twinkling melody and chiming bells, delivers an amusingly catchy hook that makes clear the band's desire for the return of a Reign of Terror.
Other topics addressed on the record include body dysmorphia (the appropriately titled "Body Terror Song"), mourning ("Your Voice, As I Remember It), and not being a dick ("Loudmouth"). If there's any light that shines through the abyss of this record, it's when Bonnette dedicates songs on the record to his dog, Maggie ("Maggie," "A Big Day for Grimley"). While cute and (partially) heartwarming, in both instances, the connection expressed between man and man's best friend illustrates how the love for your pet may be the only genuine connection man has left. Ruff.
Of all the art themed around the disasters of this political era, Good Luck Everybody feels the most vindictive. It dissects everything that's terrible, but doesn't outline a truly worthwhile solution beyond its aforementioned theme. It's certainly not platitudinal, but by asserting an "oh well, every person for themself" mentality, this record doesn't hold much weight beyond its snaps back to reality. Hopefully, as the band intended from the beginning, this record will become a dated relic of an era when hope died. Take it as a warning: in the most important election year of the modern world, we can't let it stay that way.
