Fucked Up 

David Comes to Life

The internet has been creaming itself over Toronto's hardcore sweethearts lately—for good reason. It doesn't matter if you're unfamiliar with Fucked Up's immense catalogue of 7" albums or its full-lengths, because David Comes to Life is a stand-alone piece of rock 'n' roll radness: loud, guitar-a-riffic, and sweeter than a trunk full of love notes from a high school girlfriend.

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Yes, it's sentimental. Yes, the lyrics are tough to parse as vocalist Pink Eyes yell-talks his way through an hour of aggro, scratchy bellowing. Yes, it's a rock opera about a dude who works in a light bulb factory and loves a lady (Oh dear, will they be together forever-ever?). We should hate this—but we don't. I guaran-damn-tee that anyone who cranks "The Other Shoe" up to 11 and stares deep into the speakers will be humming the melody and whispering the refrain of "Dying on the inside" for weeks. What makes this album a goodie is the interplay between the big guitars and the blustery, barking vocals. Sure the male-female vocal trade-offs on "Queen of Hearts" are hokey, but love is hokey. Hardcore is hokey. Fucked Up embraces hokeyness and pop sensibilities, and delivers.

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