I like My Chemical Romance. And not under the façade of ironic hipsterdom or as a means to get into the pants, er, minds of sixteen-year-olds, but in a totally legit go-ahead-and-out-me kind of way. Of course, with that scary-boy makeup and those live theatrics, it's easy to discount the New Jersey-bred outfit as a bunch of trendoid punk hacks. The stuffy crowds at last year's Reading Festival certainly thought so, and pelted the act repeatedly with bottles during its set. Vocalist Gerard Way responded by declaring, "We might be outsiders today, but we represent every outsider out there." Which, essentially, is the basis for this romance. But just beyond the flock of angsty pimple-faced fans is a band that is impressively good and undeniably catchy. The Black Parade is a punker's homage to album-oriented rock, with triumphant Queen-like intros and lighter-flickering guitar solos. Even the most jaded of hearts will give in eventually. Trust me.
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