Now that we have seen the golden age of hardcore-punk come and go, there are two rules we can ascertain: hardcore heroes do not age gracefully, and adding some melody and harmonies does not make you a groundbreaking artist. Perhaps it's because hardcore bands are frequently populated by young angry white boys from the 'burbs, screaming real loud and saying a whole lot of nothing. Maybe that's fun when you're in high school, but eventually, the anger subsides and you realize that the jocks who once made fun of you are no longer part of your life.

But these bands invariably get in trouble when they attempt to make the transition from punk rock to pop. It starts like this: the hardcore band from suburbs gets bored playing verse/chorus/verse, and suddenly realizes that their singer can actually carry a bit of a tune. Then, they start buying records by Sunny Day Real Estate and the Promise Ring-- maybe a Superchunk or Smiths record-- and the next thing you know, they sound like watered down imitations of those exact bands. And now, instead of a thousand groups playing borrowed Minor Threat or Youth of Today chords, they're all "expanding their sound" and wondering why nobody gives a shit.

For proof, take the career of one Walter Schreifels. He started out in the seminal New York hardcore band Gorilla Biscuits, one of the most revered bands of the genre. But after growing bored with the limits of the sound, Walter started Quicksand. With Quicksand, he did what few ex-hardcore guys do: he created a valid and vital musical entity, and even managed to sniff a bit of the success that only a major label band can.

Quicksand took the anger and frenetic energy of hardcore, melded it with melody, complex strong structure and lyrics that applied to people who no longer lived with their parents. And until Quicksand broke up, Walter had managed to avoid the downfall that so commonly afflicts other hardcore frontmen. He even created the entity CIV so that he could relive some of his hardcore days in a fashionable, ready-for MTV manner.

Now Walter's back with Rival Schools, and their major label debut, United by Fate. For the project, he's brought along drummer Sammy Siegler, who's played in, like, every New York hardcore band ever, and most recently in Glassjaw. Also in tow are bassist Cache Tolman of CIV, and Ian Love, who also appeared in a ton of hardcore bands on second guitar. Unfortunately, Walter's third hurrah amounts to a bunch of ex-hardcore heroes who have-- surprise!-- not aged gracefully. And the music? Neither groundbreaking, nor even "really good."

United by Fate isn't a terrible record if you're a fan of late-90's alterna-rock. The guitars build and crash, the drums and bass provide a muscular backdrop, and Walter's vocals are melodic without sounding like the guy took singing lessons. Yet, despite all Schreifels' promises that the band would lead him in a new direction, United by Fate sounds a hell of a lot like the first Quicksand record, only a tad more melodic and not nearly as tight. Worse, the rampant energy of Quicksand's best records is entirely absent, replaced with a sort of synthetic studio energy that seems forced at best.

At this point in his career, it would be nice to see Walter and his mates blaze a new path. Instead, they seem stuck on playing the same old chords under a different name. Yes, I'm afraid it's true: hardcore heroes do not age gracefully, and adding some melody and harmonies does not make you a groundbreaking artist. Rival Schools, the end is nigh.

-Adam Dlugacz, October 3rd, 2001