Poor Sad Punk

This morning a phone rang. A loud phone. An obnoxious phone. A phone playing some indie wanna-be punk metal band at 100 decibals louder than a cellphone should ever be permitted to emit sound before coffee has been consumed - particularly that sound.

The sound I was hearing - none other than Avenged Sevenfold. Why is this blog worthy? Well, for one thing, because mp3 ringtones were supposed to make the experience of a cellular phone ringing more pleasent - the sound was better and the track could be far more appealing than a midi rendition of the fifth symphony. And then people found volume control and bad music. I sincerly considered entitling this post "Ahh! My Ears! My Morals! My Sensabilities!"

I dont remember the exact date 2 drink minimum tickets for avenged sevenfold first landed in my hands, but I can say I've seen them a fair few times, as openers or that middle state that a band becomes when they get to do half of their album rather than three songs. Trust me, it was never on purpose. Nevertheless, a 13-year old cried out "What do you mean indie wanna-be punk metal? Have you never heard Avenged Sevenfold."

At this point, I dropped the french press on the living room floor. Don't worry, the coffee is OK.

Good Charlotte - the poppiest of all pop-punk has confused our little hoodlums - they actually think Avenged Sevenfold is hard rock. I feel an instinctive urge to sit him down in a sound booth with real music and do my best to remain patient.

Poor sad punk.