Green Day’s Billie Joe once said: "A guy walks up to me and asks 'What's Punk?' So I kick over a garbage can and say 'That's punk!' So he kicks over the garbage can and says 'That's Punk?' and I say 'No that's trendy!'”
The moral here is, no matter how many bins they kick over, Sum 41 aren’t believable punk rockers. Not yet. For all their merits, and they’ve many, Sum 41 have never been truly convincing. Sure, they’ve prospered under the tutelage of Jerry ‘Blink 182’ Finn but they’ve always come across as a tearaway school band of snotty Canadian teenage oiks set loose at breaktime, never to return.
It’s hardly a crime but if you are too quick with sarcastic quips you can’t expect people to take you seriously. If truth be told, they set a dangerous precedent with the ‘metal’ piss-take “Pain Is Pleasure” on “All Killer No Filler”. Now it's difficult to see them as anything other than a band who fill three minutes of airtime in return for the licence, and cash, to have a laugh with friends.
Their third album proper has already been anointed with words like ‘maturity’ but it’s relative. Granted, they are showing some signs, like visiting the Democratic Republic of Congo for the War Child charity but that nearly ended in disaster. Luckily the UN rescued the lads from the local civil war and as a gesture of thanks, they named the album after their saviour, Chuck Pelletier. Nice yarn but if you think their brush with death brought about any significant change in direction than you’d be mistaken.
“Chuck” is “Does This Look Infected?” only less likeable. Catchy choruses remain on tap and guitars are pillaged from friends old and new. Sabbath, Metallica, and Maiden have their back catalogues ransacked. System Of A Down’s tempo is carefully photocopied (“We Are To Blame”), Linkin Park have unsuspectingly victims (“There’s No Solution”) and even Oasis are beaten at their own game (“Some Say”).
Crucially, if you stick with a formula, the least you can do is improve it. Unfortunately “Chuck” doesn’t and there’s nothing that’s even remotely equal to “Fat Lip” or “All Messed Up”. At best, Sum 41 are treading water in themes - growing up, pressure, commitment - and more importantly sound.
Sum 41 might have got away with such a haphazard collection of tracks but not this time. If they are supposed heirs to Green Day’s crown then the last thing they would have wanted to see would have been "American Idiot" topping the charts both commercially and critically - a concept LP packed with substance and insight from a band supposedly only just capable of picking their nose and playing three chords. It’s just bad timing.
Still, Sum 41 have a lot to learn and a lot of time in which to learn it. Roll on maturity.
