Sum 41 have always seemed like
blink-182's baby brothers, right down to their nonsensical numbers in the name, so it's only appropriate that they're also attempting to grow up just like
blink -- or better still, a bit like
blink and a bit like
Green Day, who have proven to be the standard-bearers for how latter-day punks can grow a social conscience and become mature, as evidenced by
American Idiot. Sporting a similar-sounding but not as politically potent title in
Underclass Hero,
Sum 41's fifth studio album extends upon its predecessor
Chuck's deliberate attempt at getting serious and relevant, containing just enough garbled commentary and political platitudes to not only give the impression that the bandmembers are saying something beyond their beloved clichés, but to give the impression that they're telling a story, creating an anthem for the "underclass hero," the slacker who can't be labeled as an underachiever because he never attempts to achieve. The first few songs here -- the fists-in-the-air wannabe anthem title track, the narcissistic self-loathing "Walking Disaster" -- hit as hard as processed pedal distortion can, but
Sum 41 (now down to a trio after the departure of guitarist
Dave Baksh) soon abandon any larger narrative as they start to stretch out with acoustic guitars, keyboards, and
Queen harmonies uncannily reminiscent of
My Chemical Romance's more conceptually cohesive
The Black Parade. Despite these flashy accoutrements,
Sum 41 don't want to be emo, they don't want to be prog, they don't even aspire to the mock the
U2 atmospherics of
Angels and Airwaves; they want to be nothing more than pedestrian yet pleasant punk-pop, predictable in every way from their nagging chant-along choruses to their portentous attempts at rewriting "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)." Like all
Sum 41 albums,
Underclass Hero is ingratiating enough as background music -- it's hooky enough to have momentum but not enough to linger in the memory -- but they've never sounded quite so toothless and it's all down to this increased ambition. Now that
Deryck Whibley wants to say something important, it's all the more evident that he's not armed with much more than a juvenile sense of melody and a cookie-cutter outlook on the world: when he's railing against his parents or the man at large, he gives no specifics, only platitudes, which only emphasizes that this is prefabricated rebellion, protest music for the branding generation -- kids who make a stand by preferring Pepsi to Coke or Burger King to McDonalds. Or
Sum 41 to
blink-182. [A digital-only edition was also released.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine