Mallrats (La La La)

Opening with a guitar figure that has something almost poppy in its hook before the band kicks the door off it, this track is propelled by a manic suburban energy, a sound that has absorbed too much sugar and not enough sleep. The rhythm is relentless in a way that suggests less punk ferocity than pure restlessness — this is music made by people who have nowhere to be and are furious about it. The la-la-la refrain is deceptive in its lightness; it reads as ironic, a sing-along melody draped over lyrics that circle the particular desolation of American commercial spaces and the kids who drift through them with no money and no program. Cuomo's delivery is looser here than on some of their tracks, almost playful, though the playfulness has an edge that keeps it from tipping into pure fun. Sonically the mix is slightly airless and bright, guitars sitting forward with no real low-end warmth to cushion them. It captures a very specific early-2010s indie garage moment when bands were consciously recovering something scrappy and physical that the previous decade's indie rock had smoothed away. Best heard at an unreasonably loud volume in a car idling in a parking lot, which is essentially the scenario the song was written inside.