Almost ten years after their debut on the scene, Austin-based Dynamite Boy has finally gotten around to releasing a self-titled album. In case you didn’t know, the band plays more of that same kind of pop-laden melodic punk that seems to be, well, just about everywhere these days. People quick to accuse them of riding the fad should hold back though, as these boys have been touring in vans for at least as long as Blink 182 has been whining about girls. Their sound hasn’t changed an awful lot since that time either, which I suppose is also pretty respectable if you’re the sort who is quick to mistake experimentation and growth for “selling out.” Oh yes, and they have street cred, too. Or so I’ve been told.
Okay, so all these things check out, but there’s still something that’s just not quite right here. I’ll be blunt: there’s no substance, no love, no true punk snarl or well-placed tongue in cheek humor or rebellion supposedly so characteristic of this genre. Dynamite Boy smells an awful lot like MxPx or a somewhat less-inspired Green Day, right down to the Billie Joe-esque, faux-English vocals. It also bears the unmistakable stench of template-driven commercial rock. Songs like “Satellite” have choruses that are melodic and catchy enough for radio, but it’s so derivative that at times it’s tough to stomach. Ultimately, there’s just nothing all that distinctive or memorable about Dynamite Boy, and although in some genres that’s forgivable if your act is solid enough (which it is) and your songs are catchy (which they are), the pop-punk thing is already overcrowded with too many soundalikes as it is.
I’m sorry; I know they were here first, and that should be worth something… But I’ve already forgotten about them.
Dynamite Boy: www.dynamiteboy.com