The sad breakup of a truly promising rock ensemble occasioned because some idiot forgot to flush the toilet is remembered in the imperishable prose of Mr. James Montgomery, rock critic and skateboard aficionado:
My Chemical Romance broke up Friday night, ending a career that spanned a dozen years and produced some of the most visceral, dramatic rock and roll in recent memory.
There are, of course, the tangible things they leave behind—four studio albums, all of which are excellent (and none of which sound the same), a pair of live records, palettes of pancake makeup and racks of elaborate costumes, and a reel of music videos so epic it should probably be preserved for all perpetuity—and, while impressive, none of those things truly do My Chemical Romance justice. Because they were a band built around intangibles, they were about ideas and actions, hopes and dreams. They eternally existed at the intersection of creativity and conflict. It’s the reason they were a great band, and why they’ll certainly be missed. They wanted to change the world, to kill rock and roll, then resuscitate it, to use art as a weapon. Maybe they accomplished those things, maybe they didn’t, but that’s largely beside the point: My Chemical Romance were the rare band that dared to dream big, unapologetically so.
March 23, 2013
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