By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
This declaration includes more than a smidgen of hyperbole, since, musically anyhow, the Romancers' repertoire sticks to the modern-punk template more often than not. But lyrically, visually and in terms of persona, the group consistently eschews the conventional, and the main reason is Way. Songs such as "Give 'Em Hell, Kid" and "You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison," from Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, the act's latest salvo, exhibit an entertaining, wide-screen sensibility, not to mention narratives whose violence, ghoulishness and fascination with fatal irony recall the finest pulp fiction. The quintet's theatricality is custom-made for MTV, and the players -- guitarists Ray Toro and Frank Iero, drummer Bob Bryar and bassist Mikey Way (Gerard's brother) -- take advantage. "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)" has Revenge's least interesting words, but they seem downright compelling in the context of a Rushmore-inspired clip overflowing with scenes of teenage lust and humiliation. As for "Helena," it's transformed into a wonderfully macabre production number (a gorgeous corpse dances at her own funeral) that almost revives the artistically moribund video format.
Way began exercising his imagination early on. "I grew up in Belleville, New Jersey, which is basically Newark," he recalls. "It wasn't a safe area as far as going out and playing with friends. So, from a young age, I learned how to live in places that didn't exist." He devoured books, often of the comic variety, and "wrote a lot of stories about wizards, boy magicians, stuff like that. I was very interested in magic and card tricks." Still, the first songs he penned, around age fifteen, weren't particularly mystical. "I was really into Kerplunk-era Green Day," he says, "so I tried to emulate what they were doing, what they were writing about. That's why there was a lot of stuff about girls. I hadn't really dated girls, but I pretended that I had." He also admired Iron Maiden, whose cartoony backdrops inspired him to take pen in hand. He went on to study illustration at New York's School of Visual Arts, which hooked him up with an internship at an area animation house. At first, he was essentially "a photocopy boy," he concedes, but staffer Barb Nash took a liking to an idea he had for an animated television series.
"It was called The Breakfast Monkey," Way says, "and it was about a small Scandinavian creature who had the power of 'breakfast magic,' which is really indefinable. He could do things like make giant waffles appear out of nowhere." With Nash and cohort Joe Boyle, Way roughed out a Breakfast Monkey sample in which, among other things, an excitable Mexican wrestler's head is transformed into a stack of pancakes. (It can be viewed online at www.curiouspictures.com/shows/clips/ bmonkey.html.) Way says Cartoon Network was interested in the concept, but the network eventually passed because of bad timing -- 9/11 had just happened -- and its commitment to another bizarro food-related project, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, which has become one of his favorites.
He's far from bitter that his shot at TV fame missed the target. "Stuff happens for a reason," he allows. "And when I walked out of that, I started the band." Besides, he says, "there's a lot of opportunities to do visual art with My Chemical Romance. All your creativity is relative, be it music, art or whatever. You can focus on one thing and make it your career, but it's great if you can use all of your skills. And this is the kind of band where, luckily, I can use every single skill I have."
In contrast to the upbeat Monkey, the songs that formed the basis for the Chemists' full-length debut, 2003's I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (made for Eyeball Records), were quite dark. "There was a lot of bleak stuff happening, not just in my personal life, but in the world," he explains. "Skylines and Turnstiles," a Bullets track that dealt with the toppling of the Twin Towers, found Way dealing with such themes in a heartfelt yet familiar manner reminiscent of Thursday, a rising band fronted by Bullets producer Geoff Rickly. More original, however, was "Vampires Will Never Hurt You," a goth-punk extravaganza in which Way declares, "We're hanging out with corpses and driving in this hearse/And someone save my soul tonight."
Suddenly, fans began referring to the crew's sound as "vampire punk," and while Way says the musicians played up this image to some extent, by donning "black clothes and eye shadow," they stopped short of "wearing capes or spitting out blood -- and not doing stuff like that kept us from being a kitsch-rock band, a gimmick-rock band. There have been times where it came close, but we never went the full distance with anything, and that gave us room to evolve."