My Chemical Romance and other like bands revel in teen angst.
“She belly-flopped in front of a car wearing a suicide note... just another case of a geek trying to imitate the popular people and failing miserably.” — Shannen Doherty, Heathers
Last month’s issue of Spin ruined my day. I opened my mailbox to find Gerard Way’s stupid pasty Bowie-wannabe face staring at me from the pitch-black chasm of his metal coffin, suffocating among the unpaid bills and slicing his wrists on credit card offers. “Kids were gonna kill themselves. Then they heard our music,” blurbs the My Chemical Romance frontman. Funny — that’s how I feel when I hear My Chemical Romance — l like I want to do myself in.…
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