In the wake of Blink-182, the world seems a bit lost as to in what direction pop-punk is supposed to go. The former Blink members - Mark Hoppus, Tom DeLonge and Travis Barker - have all found new groups, but as of yet, none have come close to filling the void left by their former '90s juggernaut.
Tom DeLonge's self-declared "best band ever," Angels & Airwaves, despite being bolstered by ex-members of The Distillers and The Offspring, has drawn more attention for its all-star cast than for its music, which aspires to grandeur but achieves mediocrity at best. One feels sorry that Atom Willard, of such a respected band as The Offspring, has tainted his name by joining the Don Quixote of the rock world.
And then there is +44, Mark Hoppus' first effort since the break-up of Blink-182 after a short stint as a producer (for bands such as Motion City Soundtrack and The Matches). Featuring Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker, +44 released its first album, "When Your Heart Stops Beating" on Nov. 14.
The title track and first single off the album, "When Your Heart Stops Beating," sounds exactly like most people thought it would: a rejected Blink-182 song. The track's phrasing is based on the same tried-and-true formula that worked for Blink, but without DeLonge's pithy-yet-unbelievably-catchy riffs, it's just boring.
In the background, Travis is working his skinny little arms in an attempt to infuse a disco-esque vibe into the track, but his efforts are drowned out by a deluge of distorted guitar.
The next mildly interesting track on the album is entitled "155," mainly noteworthy for Barker's interesting pattern on the hi-hat and simple, yet effective synth line. Even with this promising start, Hoppus' inability to write riffs like those that kept Blink's music engaging leads to a growing sense of ennui by the two-minute mark. Hoppus is, after all, a bass player, not a lead guitarist.
In the same vein, the guitarists of +44, Craig Fairbaugh and Shane Gallagher, were either given too little liberty to offer creative input or had none of value to offer. The guitars on this album, even down to the tone, are uninspired and dry. There is barely a riff to be found, and the track "Cliffdiving" is the closest they come to bearing the moniker "lead" guitarist. A more appropriate title may be "bass line replicators."
Slower, more somber tracks are more frequent in +44 than in a typical Blink album, but quantity and quality are usually inversely proportional. The pseudo-ballad "Weatherman" is again saved by Barker's ability to play with rhythm like it's his personal tinker toy, but the emotionally charged vocal line needed for a fiery ballad is, like most of the album's inspiration, MIA.
The song that makes this album almost worth the $10 spent on its packaging is "No, It Isn't," Hoppus' musical goodbye letter to former lifemate Tom DeLonge. Although the track is by no means complicated, its subject matter makes the words more potent than their delivery entails. "Please understand," sings Hoppus, "this isn't just goodbye/ This is I can't stand you."
If the band listened to their album, they might learn something from "No, It Isn't." In fact, they would probably learn a lot. The track sounds honest and raw, unlike the rest of the album; flubs and imperfections are audible, only making the song sound real. The guitars are loud and distorted, the drums resemble those from a basement recording, and the synthesizers are ... missing. Perfection.
Blink-182 may never reunite, and that fact unto itself is saddening. Blink-182, however, was a classic example of the whole being more than the sum of its parts. Tom DeLonge needed Mark Hoppus like Lennon needed McCartney, and nothing they do apart will have the same spark that a joint effort could produce. If you like Blink-182 (and you do - don't deny it), it is much more worthwhile to reach into the past and buy their album "Cheshire Cat" (1998) than to shell out money for either an Angels & Airwaves or a +44 album.
