Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun

A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar

4) Dashboard Confessional, A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar (2003)

Oh, Dashboard Confessional. Is there a more divisive band out there? Dashboard boosters would take a bullet for the band; detractors can’t bring themselves to even listen. (Ok, I may be generalizing, but who knows.) All I know is that of all the emo-type bands that I enjoy, Dashboard tends to elicit the most ughs, blechs, and really?s. You know what? I don’t care. I effing love Dashboard.

The band’s entire catalogue falls well within the confines of our list, so picking one particular album was sort of tough: they’re all so good! However, comma, A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar takes the cake. The decision, in a big way, came down to sheer volume: AMAMABAS has 13 tracks, and all of them are pure dynamite. To quote a song from another album on this list, “even all the bad songs ain’t so bad.” (I’ll go ahead and say that “Morning Calls” is the worst song on the album. Take that how you will.)

A Mark represents Dashboard Confessional’s Newport Folk Festival moment, so to speak. After two acoustic albums, the band’s third full-length featured a full electric band. Regular readers of Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun understand that I’m a sucker for anything acoustic, but the fact remains that musically, there are certain things you can only do when you’re plugged in.

In this blog’s previous iteration, I’ve talked about the maybe-not-so-rare opening track trifecta on A Mark. As that post makes clear, a strong opening track (which A Mark has) is crucially important, but if the two tracks after that rock too, well, you might have a Top Ten Favorite Album of the Decade on your hands. “Rapid Hope Loss” is as heavy a tune as you’ll find on a Dashboard album (which means not quite that heavy at all), but where the music fails to smash like a hammer, the lyrics cut like a knife: “Well thanks for waiting this long to show yourself. / ‘Cause now that I can see you, / I don’t think you’re worth a second glance.” My favorite track, “As Lovers Go,” follows. I won’t go into too much detail, because it’s a sweet song, and I feel like if I waxed poetic about every sweet song I liked on this list, y’all would get diabetes or something.

Chris Carrabba, as Rolling Stone says, is the godfather of emo. I won’t go into individual tracks too deeply, because in a way, they’re all the same. I mean that in a positive way, though it doesn’t sound like it. What I mean is that, as a songwriter, Carrabba is incredibly consistent. Each song brims with passion, wit, and emotion. He’s among the best there is at what he does.

I like A Mark a lot because, since it came out, it’s been an album that I’ve been able to just sort of hang around in. For a good long while, I listened almost exclusively to the first half. Who knows why: it had songs I liked, and I never bothered getting around to the later tracks. Then I was asking the Official Bandmate of Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun (what, you’ve never heard of Wait for Summer?) about suggestions for a good summertime playlist. “Why not ‘Carve Your Heart Out’?” he asks me. Why not indeed! As it turns out, for as strong as the album starts, it finishes just as strong: “So Beautiful,” “Hey Girl,” “If You Can’t Leave It Be,” and “Several Ways to Die Trying” are just as addictive as the first four tracks. And so then for the next few months, I hung around almost exclusively in the back end of the album. Then I grew up and realized I could listen to the whole thing, and well, here we are. I just love Dashboard.

Signature track: “Hands Down”

You may or may not know, but Dashboard Confessional is probably the band that exerts the strongest influence on my North Jersey emocore duo, Wait for Summer. The way my buddy Joe and I write lyrics and music, and his vocal stylings, wind up sounding more like Dashboard than anyone else. It’s not on purpose, but it happens. Consequently, I find myself very interested in Chris Carrabba’s songwriting.

My choice of signature track here is another deference to the artist. I’ve been to a few Dashboard Confessional shows, and every one has ended with “Hands Down.” And every time, Carrabba introduces the song the same way: “This is a song about the best night of my life.” I believe it. As I’ve written before, I admire guys that can write songs, autobiographical or not, about things that I just can’t bring myself to. Even if I could pick out the best night of my life, I know I’m wholly incapable of describing it with the detail and honesty of “Hands Down.” This Dashboard tune is sort of the opposite of the Fall Out Boy example: just a song that’s clearly filled with joy, and love, and earnestness. It’ll warm the ol’ cockles of your heart.

Regular readers of Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun understand my intense love for my home state of New Jersey. But I can’t muster much love, or even civility, after the goddamn farce that occurred in Trenton today.

That’s right, precious readers: the Garden State joins such luminaries as Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Utah, and Mississippi as a state that can’t muster the courage to extend basic civil rights to its citizens.

You all know that this sort of thing fires me up. It bothered me when California voters defeated gay marriage. It bothered me when Maine did the same. But you know what? That was California and Maine. New Jersey should be held to a higher standard. We’re smarter than those people. We’re richer than those people. But now? In the vital metric of extending the most basic human rights to oppressed minority populations, New Jersey is in league with the most backwards, bigoted, fearful, and ignorant states in the Union. I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed of the state I love so much.

Here’s a roll call of which New Jersey senators voted yes and no. I’ve had a lot of critical things to say about Bayonne’s senator, Sandra Cunningham, but at least she had the good sense to do the right thing. As for Nick Sacco, I’ll see him in hell.

Then again, at least Sacco is on record with his villainy. How about the three nebbish, callow Democrats who abstained? Like Stephen Sweeney, who is somehow about to become Senate president. “Senator Stephen M. Sweeney . . . said publicly that he thought voters would look unkindly on the Legislature if it pushed for a social issue at a time of economic suffering. Senator Sweeney did not cast a vote on the measure on Thursday.” What the hell does economic suffering have to do with anything? There’s no one in the New Jersey Senate that can look in the mirror and say “New Jersey’s horrific economic condition isn’t my fault.” And now they’re going to blame their own feckless incompetence for further displays of spinelessness? What a joke. And fuck Gloucester County.

I’m honestly having a hard time mustering outrage any more. I’m not going to say I’m good at it, but I at least try to make an attempt to see things from other people’s perspective. But seriously, what does a fat, straight, moron have to fear from two men getting married? What does someone who never has to worry about visiting her spouse in the hospital, or inheriting his wife’s property when she dies, or having her union recognized for what it is, have to worry about two people who love each other enjoying the same civil rights as the rest of their fellow citizens?

And what does a state legislator have to fear from a horde of ignorant bigots? Criticism? A tougher reelection? Give me a break. Do your fucking job. This isn’t a political issue, so I have no fucking patience for political calculations. This is about recognizing the fundamental humanity of gay people. As I said earlier, the line between the right side and the wrong side of history is stark. Dick Codey, (God bless the man, he should be the governor right now) said it best: “One day people will look back and say, ‘What were they thinking?’ And, ‘What were they so afraid of?’”

Who fucking knows, senator. Who knows.

The Washington Monthly, on the Texas textbook approval process.

And if this topic piques your interest enough to compel you to read a book about it, I suggest Diane Ravitch’s excellent The Language Police.