Review Summary: Good Charlotte still isn't too good.
For one of the deadly sins, greed has a surprising number of points in the plus column. It's especially, perhaps exclusively true in the art world. Dostoevsky wrote some of his works to pay off the gambling debts that plagued him all his life. Many of the famousRenaissance artists were paid to paint their masterpieces. And what would popular music be without the ever-present desire for more money? The Rolling Stones and Aerosmiths of the world would have far less trademark swagger and cocky bravado without waves of cash rolling in faster than they can book another greatest hits tour. Without the wealth and excess Jay-Z yearned for on Reasonable Doubt, would he have ever had the motivation to give us the Blueprint? And on the flipside of that, if Fugazi, Gang of Four, and their underground bretheren weren't so repulsed by the world's lust for status through possessions, they'd have nothing to get passionate about. No passion equals no music. Therefore, greed is good. But only sometimes.
Yes, for all the classics that society's big-spending ways have inadvertently helped come to fruition, there's still the 'root of all evil' side to greed, and it manifests itself quite openly in Good Charlotte. Never pretending to be anything more than an opportunity for a quick and substantial cash grab, the band released their first effort of snotty, power-chord Hot Topic punk in 2000, less than one year before fellow eyeliner fans and musical peers Blink-182 released their fifth. At the time, the latter band's star had been rising and was just about to peak, so what better time for Good Charlotte to capitalize with an album full of the exact same music? The chameleon act suited them through their nearly identical sophomore release, The Young and the Hopeless - nothing more needs to be said about the jaw-dropping chutzpah of "Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous," a song decrying the excesses of fame and fortune which topped the charts as the band publicly enjoyed their success on any TV channel that would have them.
However, as hindsight taught us, mall punk couldn't rule the world forever, and when it came time for their third album, the band threw in a couple of curveballs (pianos! Strings!), but couldn't replicate the triple-platinum success of Hopeless. Away they went into hibernation, waiting for a new trend to take Billboard by storm. In a fairly unexpected development, new wave of all things came back into fashion. Gone were the baggy jeans and t-shirts favored by Mark Hoppus and company, replaced by the stripes, sweater vests and occasional synths of Franz Ferdinand and their ilk. Good Charlotte seemed a lost cause by now. Were they really calculating and desperate enough to shed their seasoned Warped Tour skins and hop on the dance-pop bandwagon? Of course they were, which brings us to their fourth and latest album, the self-consciously titled Good Morning Revival.
First and foremost, the band is far too late to the party. The aforementioned Franz Ferdinand gave us their debut three years ago, and since then the new-new-wave movement has seen more than its share of hangers-on, from the mediocre Bloc Party to the downright awful, lifeless music of She Wants Revenge and the Bravery. Unfortunately for Good Charlotte, Good Morning Revival plays like a fourth-tier version of the latter bands. It's surface music at its most painful; the winking charm and wit that made stars out of Franz and the Killers is completely absent from the music on Good Morning, which simply skims the keyboards and fashionable posturing from its influences and tries to infuse them into the stale festival rock they can't let go of. It makes for a strange fit, and their generally upbeat music clashes with the blasé zombie-rock they're trying to incorporate. First single "The River" shamelessly lifts the chorus hook from "These Things" by She Wants Revenge for its second verse, and though Good Charlotte makes it catchier, they sound awkward trying to scream lines like "I've done a lot of things wrong/but I swear I'm a believer... I'm trying to find my way back home." It doesn't mesh with the apathetic aesthetic they're grasping for, and the song sounds forced and unconvincing as a result. "Keep Your Hands Off My Girl," with its groan-inducing declaration of "let the record play!" and half-rapped vocals, fares even worse. The falsetto-sung chorus and attempts at menacing guitar work send the song directly into self-parody territory, but what's disturbing is that nobody realized it.
And so the album goes, with few stylistic changes to be found. The band brings out their sensitive sides on the schmaltzy, nearly-unlistenable ballad "March On," and on the surprising "Beautiful Place," a bizarre piece of orchestral pop that channels, of all bands, indie heroes du jour the Shins. It's a nice change of pace, but not enough to save an album that cements Good Charlotte's reputation as one of the most mercenary bands currently operating. As "The River" and the "Dance Floor Anthem" indicate, they're still capable of writing decent hooks, but whether or not their fans will see through the thin veneer of their new sound is a different story.
