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| Album Rating: C |
Anti-Flag's biggest problem as a band today might just be fans like me. Back in the day, being a fourteen year old white kid with good grades from a decent neighborhood that still felt a little out of place in high school meant the need for an outlet to the confusion and frustration. Punk rock, or maybe "punk rock," happened to be that vent. I can remember going to Anti-Flag shows with my friends Dave and Spaz and loving every second of dancing around to 'Spaz's House Destruction Party' and 'Davey Destroyed the Punk Scene' (it's true) and feeling like I really belonged to something. I can recall looking around the pit of sweaty, vest-clad punks and picking out the ones without green mohawks that looked to be a lot like me - that is, relatively normal, happy kids with typical high school angst and a need for that same outlet. Even if the shows were just a means to feeling better about typical freshman-year grievances and the government wasn't personally dicking us over, it felt pretty real as we shouted "Fuck the flag and, FUCK YOU!" together at the tops of our lungs. Most of all, I remember wondering what it all meant, what it would all become, and when I would finally tell my well-meaning father to piss off.
