Revolution On Canvas: Poetry From The Indie Music Scene Volume 1

Book Reviews | Mar 30th, 2008

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Author: Rich Balling, Ed.
Publisher: Warner Books
Genre: Music
Pages: 222
Retail Price: 9.99
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This might be the worst collection of poetry ever published.

This participants are nearly all from bad current-generation emo and emocore bands like The Academy Is…, A Static Lullaby, Gatsby’s American Dream, Silverstein, Motion City Soundtrack, just make a list of the worst bands to come out in the last 10 years. But I don’t hold the suckiness of the bands against them. My only question is – could they write poetry?

Well, if you define poetry as the stuff goth girls in 8th grade write in their notebooks while blasting Nine Inch Nails and cutting themselves, then yes. But then you’re probably in an emo band too.

Shit is bad. I’ll close my eyes and pick out some passages randomly:

Gabe Saporta of Midtown:

“And we reach for what we’re missing in –
We don’t know how to let love in
Don’t you cry
For me
Because I’m already dead.”

Wow, what are you, 13 years old and just had a fight with mom and dad?

Steve Scavo of The Color Turning:

“I know your face
I’ve smelled your waste
I’ve seen your heart
And I can’t look again
For my reflection’s just as dark”

You took my heart / and tore it apart / now you are a ho / and I will watch The Crow.

Ooof, this one is REALLY bad:

Shane Told of Silverstein:

“My heart bleeds no more; now, it’s been turned to stone. Your stomach feels sick for someone else. I’ve broken both my legs falling for you. Drag me on the ground. Powerless I stand, tarnished blade, cutting through, pushed into my vein.”

Because you’re really cool / when you’re not in school / but there you are mean and i am a fool / and you want drugs / but i want hugs / and i will cut myself until the end / pain is my only friend.

Not every poem is an embarrassment. Jonathan Newby from Brazil took an intelligent, post-modern approach. Joseph Karam from The Locust wrote a cool piece that’s short but jackhammer powerful. And… that’s pretty much it. But hey, with 150 or so poems, you’re bound to have a couple of decent ones slip in by mistake.

But while I didn’t appreciate this book, others might. Specifically, young troubled girls who suddenly feel an emotional affinity with their favorite contrived, calculatingly emotional mallpunk bands comprised of sleazy 30 year olds.

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