On the website for the British football club the Sheffield Wednesday Owls (www.swfc.co.uk), there's a news headline which reads "Emo's Fears." "Emo" is the nickname for Brazilian born defender Emerson Thome. The "fears" the article speaks of mainly center around religation, which is, in short, a wonderful part of British football. (Here's a heirarchy of four leagues-- The Premier, Division I, Division II, and Division III.) At the end of each season, the bottom three teams from each division gets "sent down," or "religated," to the lesser division. Likewise, the top three teams move up one division. Sadly, the Sheffield Wednesday are in real danger of religation. Their offense has been impotent, and several leads have slipped into worthless draws. Unless the Owls inject their calves with andro, it looks like they'll be playing next season in post- industrial wastelands like Bolton instead of the primetime London venues.

Wouldn't it be great if music worked the same way? In a way, "emo" music is analogous to a league-- a very minor league. Call it the Pop Warner league of rock. Hell, isn't the Sheffield Wednesday a perfect name for an emo band? Soccer's nickname, "the beautiful game," is another great emo band name. Let's just cut to the chase-- Edaline are a Division II emo band in serious danger of religation. Next season (hey, seasons are emo, too!) Edaline will be fighting it out with the Jazz June and the Ivy Crown before finances force the team to fold. Boys (it's typically boys), your game is too predictable. Opposing coaches (i.e. ears) will have no problem shutting you down. Edaline pushes the ball right up the middle and shoots from midfield. Where's the finesse, the dance?

Edaline bring the literature fixation of Rainer Maria-- the "songs" are actually listed as "chapters," despite the lack of cohesive narrative, which on second thought is a blessing-- the nautical fixation of June Of 44, Rachel's, Shipping News, and every other post- Rodan band, and the obligatory "________ Eyes" song. Really, guys, I think every possible description for the female eye has been found. "Crescent Moon Eyes" ranks around "Pumpkin Eyes" by Silver Scooter on the unlikely metaphor scale. Everything under the sun (and including the sun) has been compared to the female iris. Naturally, there's also a song named after a girl, "Andrea Gail," and a song based on a horrible pun, "Thinking of View."

I suppose as you read this, there's a fetus in Bangladesh being squeezed from a womb who has never heard these cliches before. Jingle- jangle guitars build to staccato riff choruses. Two singers whine about film, kissing, and loneliness before screaming about climate, isolation, and transportation. Drums snap and pop with psuedo- Albini vigor. The bass player hammers out muddy chords. The songs are utterly indistinguishable from one another, and at the very least "tight." The Bangladeshi newborn yawns.

Mineral, Jimmy Eat World, Braid, Boys Life, and Elliott all pumped out this vapid rock years ago. "Oooh, it's quiet! No! Wait! It's loud! Drum solo!" Haven't we come to the point when society as a whole realizes that middle/ upper- class, suburban, American, white college boys have nothing important or soulful to say? Especially when it comes to middle/ upper-class, suburban, American, white college girls. Accrue some scars and get back to me. Ah, but music is like sport. There always has to be a loser.

-Brent DiCrescenzo