Jimmy Eat World: Clarity Jimmy Eat World 
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"Mr. President, Commander Sir, the air- strikes aren't achieving the level of success we expected."

"Ah, crap on stick. You know I can't send in ground troops. Are there any other options? I just don't understand it. On TV, that Marine guy fights a giant lava monster single handedly! Single. Handedly. Why can't we bring in that guy, with the sword?"

"That's a commercial, Sir."

"Ah, poo. I'm gonna bite my pillow."

"Please, Sir, we have another option. We call it 'Operation Safe and Sound.' Do you remember what we did with Noreaga?"

"No, not really."

"We rocked his ass out with what the kids call 'Heavy Metal.'"

"Heavy Metal. Hmmm. It just might work! Go up to Chelsea's room and look through her CDs. Get some of that rock and roll music and we'll blast it so loud, Ol' Slobba will come running out of Belgrade with bloody ears, begging for mercy."

2000 hours later, outside Milosovic's compound...

"Name and rank!"

"Brigadier Private, DJ Axel, Radio and Aural Uncomfortability Division, Sir!"

"Ah, the RAUD boys are here. I hope you brought some loud and aggressive music to flush that dumpy bastard out."

"Ah, well, the only suitable music we could find in Chelsea's room was this Jimmy Eat World CD and this Orgy CD single, Sir."

"Now, that Orgy is just bad, boy. Bad. Let's give the Jimmy Eat World a chance. It's our last hope."

"Yes, Sir! It was either this or Billy Joel's Greatest Hits and that 'Lady In Red' song."

"Damn Stanford girl. This better work."

0012 minutes later, inside Milosovic's compound, home entertainment room...

"Mr. Milosovic, Sir. The Americans have begun to play the rock and roll music very loud."

"Dammit, Volodrag! I must finish watching 'Red Dawn'! I must see these "Woolvereens" punks die!"

"Sorry, sir, but the Yankee canines win."

"Dammit man! Blood of Peter! Don't spoil it for me!"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Well, at least that Jennifer Grey girl got run down by a helicopter. I quite liked that part-- she got a nose-job you know."

"Please, Sir, come with me. The Yankees have begun playing their CD, in hopes of flushing us out. We must prepare."

"Wait, I hear the music... this is it? This is what they hope to drive us out with?"

"It just the opening song, Sir."

"But still! Listen to this! The plodding drumming and toy xylophone! A cello! The guitar sounds like crystal chimes. And the vocals! So much harmonizing. They sound like sensitive white American boys. I imagine if one of the photos in those vaguely homo- erotic Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs came to life and starting playing music, it would sound like this."

"The second song has started, Sir. We need to get you to your sound-proof recording studio."

"Wait, I quite like this song. This is a really great song. This must be the single."

"You are correct. It is also used in a new Drew Barrymore film."

"Of course! This song is just like Drew Barrymore. Puffy baby cheeks, curly hair hooks, kissable red lip drum loops... it's impossible to not like this."

"Oh no! The third track! It's has chugging power chord riffs and screeching guitar transitions! Cover your ears!"

"For this? I think not. They're trying to rock and be aggressive, but it's too polished, too produced. Whatever edge Jimmy Eat World might have live is sanded down to a waxy, smooth linoleum surface. And the harmonies are still everywhere. It's almost as if they don't know how to sing any other way outside of this 'tender and yearning' mode."

"Personally, Sir, I find it highly ironic when they sing, 'Imitate and water down.'"

"Exactly. And, man, there's more toy chimes on the fifth track. And more strings. When will bands learn that throwing some strings and a church organ in a ballad doesn't automatically make beautiful music?"

"I feel, Sir. The band is pretty talented. They pull off all their songs perfectly."

"True, Volo, true. But it's as if it's too perfect. There's no edge, no barb, no emotion. Sure, they may have come from the 'emo' scene, but the feelings here are so adolescent and stale that it's hard to be moved. This band could be the next Goo Goo Dolls."

"And, Sir, what about this song? He keeps whining 'Merry Christmas, Baby' over and over. It sounds like a bad carol."

"And the loops and samples. If I hear another band trying to mature with loops and samples, I'll conquer a small neighboring country!"

"The American's plan has obviously failed. Let us prepare our shoulder- launched missles. As soon as the last song ends, we will fire on them outside and win!"

0030 minutes later...

"Blood of Peter, Volodrag! When will this song end!? It's been going on for seven minutes! I'm feeling... sleepy."

"What's that, Sir? The same... repetitive chord plucking... is lulling me... to sleep."

"I can't believe it... This song must... be... over... 10 minu..."


"Well, Axel, your ass was just saved by the longest, softest emo song ever! DC Talk has more edge than this! Ol' Slobba fell right asleep and we went in and cut his arms off. Who'd have thought? 16 minutes! 16! Of the same part over and over! Wow. All those syrupy harmonies sure do cloy. You might get a medal for this."

-Brent DiCrescenzo