However, when I saw them on many of Punknews.org's year-end lists, I began to be intrigued. So, I gave their new album a listen, and, sure enough, they're pretty much all I listened to for the next week or so. Once I checked out singles "Flashlight" and "Maps" from their previous, self-titled album, I began alternating between the two albums, while also alternating between which album I felt was superior to the other.
After much careful consideration, I'm inclined to say their 2011 self-titled album is better. On Talon of the Hawk, they went for a decidedly bigger, fuller sound, but I find myself preferring their simpler, more stripped-down style on The Front Bottoms. I think it fits the simple, meandering, stream-of-consciousness lyrical style much better. It also makes them stand out from the so-called crowd a bit more, and I'm always partial to acoustic music with energy.
The strings on "Maps" add nice flourishes to this track, but really, what gets me here and on so many of The FBs' songs is the drumming. It's so loud and aggressive, and the dude has style for days behind the kit. Below is the simple, fun, charming music video for "Maps," which also contains what may be the best lyrics the band has written to date.
There is a map in my room, on the wall of my room, and I’ve got big, big plans.
And I can see them slipping through, almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands.
And I move slow, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.
You say, "I hate you," you mean it, and "I love you" sounds fake.
It's taken me so long to figure that out.
I used to love the taste, I would do anything for it.
Now I would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth.
And you're so confident, but I hear you crying in your sleeping bag.
But you were broken bad yourself.
You were mad as hell, you felt
if you had done anything with anyone else, it would have worked out so well.
But you are an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to.
One day, you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.
And you’ll be thinking, "How did I get here?
Where the hell am I?"
If the roles were reversed, you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.
She sees these visions, she feels emotion.
She says that I cannot go, she sees my plane in the ocean.
And "What about your friends? Don’t you love them enough to stay?"
And I say, "If I don’t leave now, then I will never get away.
Let me be a blue raft on a blue sea, I’ll blend right in."
There is a map in my room, on the wall of my room, and I’ve got big, big plans.
But I can see them falling through, almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands.
And I move slowly, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.
But you were broken bad yourself.
And you were mad as hell, you felt
if you had done anything with anyone else it would have worked out so well.
But you are an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to.
One day, you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.
And you’ll be thinking, "How did I get here?
Where the hell am I?"
If the roles were reversed, you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.
And I can see them slipping through, almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands.
And I move slow, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.
You say, "I hate you," you mean it, and "I love you" sounds fake.
It's taken me so long to figure that out.
I used to love the taste, I would do anything for it.
Now I would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth.
And you're so confident, but I hear you crying in your sleeping bag.
But you were broken bad yourself.
You were mad as hell, you felt
if you had done anything with anyone else, it would have worked out so well.
But you are an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to.
One day, you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.
And you’ll be thinking, "How did I get here?
Where the hell am I?"
If the roles were reversed, you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.
She sees these visions, she feels emotion.
She says that I cannot go, she sees my plane in the ocean.
And "What about your friends? Don’t you love them enough to stay?"
And I say, "If I don’t leave now, then I will never get away.
Let me be a blue raft on a blue sea, I’ll blend right in."
There is a map in my room, on the wall of my room, and I’ve got big, big plans.
But I can see them falling through, almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands.
And I move slowly, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.
But you were broken bad yourself.
And you were mad as hell, you felt
if you had done anything with anyone else it would have worked out so well.
But you are an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to.
One day, you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.
And you’ll be thinking, "How did I get here?
Where the hell am I?"
If the roles were reversed, you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.
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