StʌrunneR

What pushes Fall Out Boy after all these years is being open to change. M A N I A is filled with unexpected delights. “Young and Menace” drops steep breakdowns, vocal manipulation, huge drums, and an “Oops!… I Did It Again” interpolation into a confetti cannon. Even the most fervent fan won’t see “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T” coming, with the guys locking into a tropical groove. “Champion” and “The Last of the Real Ones” are classic FOB: Patrick Stump’s proud, keening voice, catchy choruses, and heart and mind hurtling together toward the finish. Stump’s inner soul man comes out on “Heaven’s Gate” and “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes),” the latter blessed with the most perfect lyric: “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.” M A N I A is aptly titled, a riot of electronic pop and rock, color and conviction.

A stellar line-up of MCs redo American Psycho/American Beauty.

Prior to their hiatus in 2009, Fall Out Boy were poster boys for the mid-2000s emo-rock scene. Upon returning in 2013, however, their second act has seen them expand their sonic palette and evolve into one of mainstream music’s most forward-thinking and progressive acts, traversing and incorporating genres at will.

Wise enough to realize that by 2013 the scene had changed irrevocably since the mid-2000s, the band chose to evolve rather than die, with that year’s Save Rock and Roll striking a middle ground between the emo-rock anthems of their past and the more hip-hop and pop-leaning charts of the mid-’10s.

The evolution continued on American Beauty / American Psycho, with the band enlisting producer Jake Sinclair, whose engineering and production credits include Sia, Keith Urban, and Taylor Swift amongst more rock-oriented acts like Weezer and Panic! At the Disco.

The album draws on hip-hop’s penchant for sampling, with Mötley Crüe’s “Too Fast for Love” pulsing through the electro-punk title track (which was produced by French DJ SebastiAn), while “Uma Thurman” incorporates the theme from The Munsters, and Suzanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner” features in “Centuries.”

That Fall Out Boy can pull off the merging of such production techniques with rock anthems (“Immortals,” “Centuries”) without losing their identity is down to several factors, starting with the fact that their transition to this point has been gradual, starting as far back as their dalliances with R&B and soul on 2007’s Infinity on High. And then there’s Patrick Stump’s vocals, elastic enough to command the band’s bombastic moments as easily as the electro-fueled “Jet Pack Blues,” and the glue that makes it all sound like one coherent piece of work.

Finally you have bassist/lyricist Pete Wentz’s ever-evocative lyrics, which verge from fury and sadness at the police killing of Trayvon Martin (“Novocaine”) to his uncanny knack for capturing the heady highs and lows of romance, as in “Favorite Record”: “You were the song stuck in my head/Every song that I’ve ever loved.”

The end result is an album that bears only a passing resemblance to 2003’s Take This to Your Grave, yet somehow feels like the work of the same group.

After platinum records, a clutch of chart-topping singles, a publicized three-year hiatus, and a wildly successful reformation, Fall Out Boy returns to its roots with PAX AM Days, a grungy hardcore EP recorded in just two days at producer Ryan Adam’s notable Pax Americana Recording Company. The result is a refreshing mélange of reckless tempos, fuzzy guitars, and incredible brevity—only one song reaches the two-minute threshold. Even though the raw production makes a gritty counterbalance to the band’s more lushly orchestrated work, PAX AM Days is still undoubtedly Fall Out Boy—made recognizable by the huge hooks and unforgettable voice of singer Patrick Stump.

For a band that hadn’t released an album in five years, having gone on hiatus following 2008’s Folie à Deux, the title of their fifth album was bold, divisive, and, importantly, tongue in cheek—qualities that had defined Fall Out Boy since forming in Chicago in 2001.

Save Rock and Roll is not, however, the work of a group content to rest on their legacy. The cover art, featuring an image of a punk standing next to a monk, was chosen to represent the sound of the record, a symbolic meeting of the old and the new combining to create something fresh.

And so while Joe Trohman’s guitars and the band’s trademark arena-filling emo-pop melodies remain intact, they’re only part of the puzzle, no longer the whole picture. Collaborations with artists such as rapper 2 Chainz (“My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)”), pop singer Foxes (the soul/R&B funk of “Just One Yesterday”), and Big Sean (“The Mighty Fall”) speak of a band looking to remain relevant in a music landscape that had changed dramatically during their absence. Elton John’s appearance on the title track, meanwhile, was a reminder of the company FOB was now keeping.

And while the string-laden drama of opener “The Phoenix” bounces with typical guitar-charged adrenaline (albeit with a more shiny pop sheen courtesy of co-producer Butch Walker, who’d previously worked with P!nk and Katy Perry, among others), it’s balanced by “Miss Missing You,” a song drawn straight from The Human League’s ’80s synth-pop songbook.

Similarly, the dance energy of “Death Valley” and soul-funk of “Where Did the Party Go” are more in keeping with vocalist/guitarist Patrick Stump’s 2011 solo album Soul Punk than FOB’s past. Tellingly, “Where Did the Party Go” riffs on fears of aging and irrelevance, Stump singing, “We were the kids who screamed, ‘We weren’t the same,’ in sweaty rooms/Now we’re doomed to organizing walk-in closets like tombs.” By reinventing their sound on Save Rock and Roll, that was a fate Fall Out Boy managed to avoid.

The advance word on Fall Out Boy’s fourth album was that it was a political affair, a rumor that gathered pace when the Chicago outfit announced it would be released on November 4, 2008—the same day Republican leader John McCain would face off against the incumbent Barack Obama in the US presidential election. (The release was later moved back to December, the band explaining they didn’t want to cheapen the election by using it as a promotional tool.)

Rather than a comment on Left vs Right, Folie à Deux (a French phrase that translates as ‘folly of two’) is instead concerned with the politics of the personal, traversing themes such as infidelity (“Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On a Bad Bet”), commitment and responsibility (no doubt inspired by bassist Pete Wentz expecting the arrival of his first child), and the vapid nature of pop culture. The latter is lambasted in “I Don’t Care,” its chorus boasting the refrain, “I don’t care what you think/As long as it’s about me.”

The album is also significant in that it was FOB’s first to feature lyrics by Wentz that were not autobiographical, the writer instead using an assortment of characters to represent the record’s themes. To bring these characters to life, the band painted with their most colorful musical palette to that point, employing vaudevillian flair and glam-stomp riffing in “I Don’t Care,” parping horns in “Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On a Bad Bet,” and instruments such as violin and viola in “Coffee’s for Closers” and “What a Catch, Donnie.” They also enlisted a formidable cast of guest, including Elvis Costello (“What a Catch, Donnie”), Blondie’s Debbie Harry (“West Coast Smoker”), Pharrell (who produced the elastic “W.A.M.S.”), and, on the Bonus Track Version, John Mayer (the cover of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”).

Upon its release the album received a lukewarm response from critics and fans alike, confused by its stylistic leaps and myriad guests. In hindsight it’s difficult to see why—despite its flamboyance, Folie à Deux remains disarmingly anthemic and blessed with a rich harvest of irresistible pop hooks. It would also prove instrumental in paving the way for the even grander creative leaps the band would take on future records, such as 2013’s Save Rock and Roll and, in particular, 2018’s M A N I A.

If you were looking for an indication of just how far Fall Out Boy’s star had risen since the release of 2005’s From Under the Cork Tree, consider this: the first voice you hear on the band’s third full-length is not that of vocalist/guitarist Patrick Stump, but stratospherically famous hip-hop impresario (and Island Def Jam president) JAŸ-Z. That the rapper comes from a world beyond emo/pop-punk sends a clear statement: the Chicago quartet was no longer content to simply conform to genre expectations and stay in their stylistic lane.

And so it proves with Infinity On High, an album that embellishes the band’s anthemic, guitar-charged melange of emo, pop, hardcore, and punk rock with hints of soul (“I’m Like a Lawyer With the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)”) and stomping funk and ’90s R&B (“This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race”).

Swirling strings punctuate the orchestral pop-punk of “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” and skittering programmed beats usher in “The (After) Life of the Party,” but perhaps the biggest stylistic leap comes in “Golden,” in which Stump croons over a somber piano accompaniment before layers of backing vocals build to an almost Beach Boys-like choral crescendo.

The band also looked beyond genre boundaries for contributors, enlisting P!nk collaborator Butch Walker to contribute to several tracks and co-produce “Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?” R&B legend Babyface, meanwhile, plays mandolin and organ on “I’m Like a Lawyer…” and “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” which he also produced. (Neal Avron, who helmed From Under the Cork Tree, handles the remainder of the LP.)

Thematically, Infinity On High hues a little more faithfully to the band’s past, with bassist/lyricist Pete Wentz continuing his penchant for crafting lyrics equal parts self-absorbed, self-deprecating, overtly dramatic, and laced with black humor.

Opener “Thriller” pits the band as underdogs, victims, and triumphant heroes all within the space of three-and-a-half minutes, covering the lukewarm critical reception to From Under the Cork Tree (“Last summer we took threes across the board”), the pace of their rise (“But by fall we were a cover story now in stores”), and the absurdity of fame and the increased scrutiny and attention (“Make us poster boys for your scene/But we are not making an acceptance speech”).

“This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race,” meanwhile, is a response to the mid-2000s emo-punk explosion, with Fall Out Boy joined at the top of the charts by acts such as My Chemical Romance, Paramore, and Panic! At the Disco. Infinity On High, however, proved they’d not be confined to being the kings of any one genre.

Fall Out Boy’s second album isn’t so much a reinvention of their sound—that would come later in their career—but it is a significant refinement. The core elements the band explored on 2003’s Take This to Your Grave remain intact—a Zeitgeist-seizing melange of emo, pop, and punk rock; lyrics that are ruthlessly self-deprecating, achingly self-aware, and dripping in melodrama; interminably long song titles such as “I’ve Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song).” But under the watch of producer Neal Avron (New Found Glory), the band’s major-label debut speaks of a group growing more musically daring and melodically intricate.

It’s telling that when first approached about producing the record Avron declined, stating he didn’t think the Chicago quartet had the songs. When an Island Def Jam A&R representative later sent him recordings of two new demos, “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” and “Dance, Dance,” he changed his mind. The former builds from a surging, slow-building chug into an arena-filling chorus, while the latter takes a more funk and R&B-influenced approach. Both would go on to become hits, ensuring the group’s days as a cult act were numbered.

To listen to the album’s lyrics is to get a peek into the mind of bassist/lyricist Pete Wentz, his insecurities laid bare. By the end of “Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued” he’s cast the band as “liars” and “bad news” while admitting “We will leave you high and dry/It’s not worth the hearing you’ll lose.” Self-doubt makes an appearance on “Of All the Gin Joints In All the World” (“You only hold me up like this/’Cause you don’t know who I really am”), while self-deprecation and self-awareness collide in “Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows)” (“All us boys are just screaming into microphones for attention”).

A voyeuristic twist on sexual obsession propels “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” (“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m watching you two from the closet/Wishing to be the friction in your jeans”), but it’s the oddly upbeat “7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen)” in which Wentz truly lays his soul bare, the song inspired by a suicide attempt and his battles with depression (“I’m having another episode/I just need a stronger dose”).

From Under the Cork Tree’s mix of melodrama and melody made them poster boys for a scene that, along with contemporaries My Chemical Romance and Paramore, was on the verge of exploding. Their lives would never be the same again.

If you were looking for an indication of just how far Fall Out Boy’s star had risen since the release of 2005’s From Under the Cork Tree, consider this: the first voice you hear on the band’s third full-length is not that of vocalist/guitarist Patrick Stump, but stratospherically famous hip-hop impresario (and Island Def Jam president) JAŸ-Z. That the rapper comes from a world beyond emo/pop-punk sends a clear statement: the Chicago quartet was no longer content to simply conform to genre expectations and stay in their stylistic lane.

And so it proves with Infinity On High, an album that embellishes the band’s anthemic, guitar-charged melange of emo, pop, hardcore, and punk rock with hints of soul (“I’m Like a Lawyer With the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)”) and stomping funk and ’90s R&B (“This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race”).

Swirling strings punctuate the orchestral pop-punk of “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” and skittering programmed beats usher in “The (After) Life of the Party,” but perhaps the biggest stylistic leap comes in “Golden,” in which Stump croons over a somber piano accompaniment before layers of backing vocals build to an almost Beach Boys-like choral crescendo.

The band also looked beyond genre boundaries for contributors, enlisting P!nk collaborator Butch Walker to contribute to several tracks and co-produce “Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?” R&B legend Babyface, meanwhile, plays mandolin and organ on “I’m Like a Lawyer…” and “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” which he also produced. (Neal Avron, who helmed From Under the Cork Tree, handles the remainder of the LP.)

Thematically, Infinity On High hues a little more faithfully to the band’s past, with bassist/lyricist Pete Wentz continuing his penchant for crafting lyrics equal parts self-absorbed, self-deprecating, overtly dramatic, and laced with black humor.

Opener “Thriller” pits the band as underdogs, victims, and triumphant heroes all within the space of three-and-a-half minutes, covering the lukewarm critical reception to From Under the Cork Tree (“Last summer we took threes across the board”), the pace of their rise (“But by fall we were a cover story now in stores”), and the absurdity of fame and the increased scrutiny and attention (“Make us poster boys for your scene/But we are not making an acceptance speech”).
“This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race,” meanwhile, is a response to the mid-2000s emo-punk explosion, with Fall Out Boy joined at the top of the charts by acts such as My Chemical Romance, Paramore, and Panic! At the Disco. Infinity On High, however, proved they’d not be confined to being the kings of any one genre.

When Fall Out Boy recorded the songs that would become their 2003 debut, Take This to Your Grave, they were living on the edge, sleeping on borrowed floors and bargaining with the studio for PB&J money. In the two decades since, the Chicagoland foursome of vocalist Patrick Stump, bassist Pete Wentz, guitarist Joe Trohman, and drummer Andy Hurley has become one of rock’s biggest acts. And the way Take This to Your Grave has an immediate appeal while reaching beyond punk’s three-chord ethos and toward ideas that are both knottier and bigger shows how they got there.

The album opens with “Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today,” which lays out the blueprint: Trohman’s power chords give way to Hurley’s breakneck drumming, which sets the stage for Wentz’s surreal yet sardonic lyrics, delivered in Stump’s wail. Fall Out Boy’s strength has long laid in the way its four members click as a band; their back-to-basics punk instincts collide with their world-conquering ambitions in thrilling ways, resulting in songs that are as suitable for catalyzing mosh pits at the beloved Chicago DIY space Fireside Bowl as they are for inspiring mass sing-alongs at Wrigley Field.

Take This to Your Grave is a period-appropriate amalgamation of edge-dwelling rock—a flag-plant amid the still-clearing dust of the century-ending alternative boom. Its songs combine the twist-tie riffs of Midwest emo, the potent harmonies of power pop, the gang vocals of heavily tattooed hardcore, and the intricate yet mighty drumming of metal, with pithy, away-message-ready lyrics cementing their indelibility. The album’s full-bodied sound, too, gives extra brawn to cuts like the punchy “Grenade Jumper” and the sneering “Calm Before the Storm.” While Stump’s voice has yet to reach the full flower that added a dollop of soul to Fall Out Boy’s punk on later albums, there are moments, like the outro of the sweetly crunchy “Saturday,” when he flexes his falsetto.

“I know I’m not your favorite record/But the songs you grow to like never stick at first,” Stump yelps on the speedy “Dead on Arrival.” But the urgency of Take This to Your Grave makes each of its songs an instant-release megadose of pop-punk euphoria—and the way that the brightly hued yet regret-wracked “Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy” and “Saturday” remain in the band’s live repertoire some 20 years after their release shows how early in their career they were crafting music with staying power.