Forever the Sickest Kids

Most bands in the same genre as Forever the Sickest Kids—agreeable pop punk—have a big sound on their records but can't necessarily recreate the wall of harmonies and crunchy guitars live. The fact that there are six people in this band suggests that they may have better luck. Forever the Sickest Kids is certainly a mouthful for a band name, but the group is interested in cramming as much as possible into limited space, as is clear from the energy and pace of most of these kicky pop tunes. "Hey Brittany," the song that they had to write after a wrong click on the Pure Volume site meant they'd spent $350 to place a track that didn't yet exist, is perfect soundtrack music: a mere three minutes of big, happy, uplifting noise with an occasional break for contemplation and vocoded vocals, the latter of which recur throughout the record.

It also doesn't fit entirely smoothly into its genre, something that can be said of much of the album. "My Worst Nightmare" has the bratty singing of many a group of tattooed ex-skaters, but it moves quickly into a computery club tune on the chorus, demonstrating that there isn't such a huge gap between different forms of dancing that involve jumping up and down. Underdog Alma Mater is not a place to find deep thoughts, but it reeks of the freedom that comes with the onset of summer, when you’ve finished your finals and can instead spend your time pursuing love and ice cream.

—Hillary Brown
05.22.08

The ultimate goal of a debut album should be to set a band apart from its peers, but it appears that Forever the Sickest Kids have missed that point with Underdog Alma Mater. The album presents Forever the Sickest Kids as decidedly average, with little that makes them stand out from fellow punk-pop/emo groups other than a slightly brighter sound. True, not every band can come out with groundbreaking works right out of the gate, but Underdog Alma Mater has a rote, paint-by-numbers feel that doesn't bode well for a premiere, instead giving the illusion that the bandmembers are either trying too hard to sound like their contemporaries, aren't sure how to set themselves apart, or just don't have anything unique to contribute musically. The most obvious example is lead singer Jonathan Cook, who bases his delivery, intentionally or not, on that of Panic at the Disco's Brendon Urie. It's unfortunate if it's mere coincidence, but indefensible if it's a deliberate imitation -- what's to be gained if Cook and the rest of the band are content to follow the lead of groups that have gone before without treading new ground or finding their own niche? It leads to songs like "She's a Lady," a bad relationship ditty that sounds like it could be an outtake from any number of groups (albeit one with a whining chorus and bland verses), or "Coffee Break," a tune that is melodramatic nearly to the point of parody as it wrenches every last bit of angst from verses about over-connected youth ("I'm turning my cell off just to breathe/'Cause everyone I know just keeps calling me"), anxiety about growing up, and even the worry that "my mom hates my guts." Other times, as on "Breakdown," the group merely sounds bored and unenthusiastic, although there are occasional bright spots, like the light and bouncy "Uh Huh." ~ Katherine Fulton, All Music Guide