So Much (For) Stardust Is Good, I'm Just A Harsh Critic

By Izzy Desmarais

Fall Out Boy has a tendency to go radio silent whenever they sense a shift in both their audience and internal dynamic. In 2009, following the release of their fourth studio album Folie à Deux, the band decided it was time to decompress. Folie à Deux was their most experimental to date — commonly referred to as a power pop album, its tracklist is infused with elements of 80s rock, jazz, and disco to create an entirely new sound for the band. Their lyricism turned from self-referential to universal with themes of politics, morality, love, and consumerism at the center of each song. Despite earning great acclaim from critics, it was initially considered a huge miss with fans. So much so, the band was booed when they played Folie à Deux on the album’s tour. This disillusionment prompted a five year hiatus, before their return in 2013 with Save Rock and Roll. 

A similar situation happened after their polarizing seventh studio album MANIA (2018), which saw a complete departure from their typical rock sound and leaned heavily into the electropop genre. Although the band wasn’t completely silent, as they embarked on the Hella Mega Tour with Weezer and Green Day, there had been little to no discussion of new music for the past five years. That is, until their lead single “Love From The Other Side” was released on January 18th of this year along with the announcement of their eighth studio album, So Much (For) Stardust, out on March 24th. 

The single felt familiar — with guitar, bass, and drums back at the forefront, it seemed Fall Out Boy was returning to their pop-punk roots. Fans were starting to suspect that So Much (For) Stardust would be From Under The Cork Tree 2.0. 

Wrong. 

Lead singer and rhythm guitarist Patrick Stump was sure to stamp out any hopes for a 2005 throwback with this new record. In a January interview with NME, Stump explains that he sees So Much (For) Stardust as an exploration of a post-Folie à Deux sound without the five year hiatus — “an experiment in seeing what [they] would have done.” As a huge fan of pre-hiatus Fall Out Boy, I really appreciate Stump introducing us to this era with the caveat that it will not be a complete return to form. Without it, I probably would have been very disappointed with this release. 

Fall Out Boy is a deeply personal subject for me. Their music accompanied me through the nightmare that is middle school, an emotionally catastrophic high school breakup, and my transition from adolescence to young adulthood. In between these lowest points, Fall Out Boy was still there to round out the edges of my life’s soundtrack. What I’m trying to say here is that it’s nearly impossible for me to remain completely objective; a fair assumption would be that my love for this band is so blinding, I’ll write a stellar review for anything they release. This is not the case. If anything, my love for Fall Out Boy makes me that much more critical of them. 

Before I dive into any complaints I have about So Much (For) Stardust, I do want to emphasize that this album sounds incredible. The genre-defying days of Infinity On High and Folie à Deux are felt in tracks like the funky, R&B influenced “Hold Me Like A Grudge” and the orchestrally earth-shattering “I Am My Own Muse.” These diverging elements seamlessly blend together with the traditional heavy guitars and their newer, pop-inspired sound. If you are someone who focuses solely on production and musical composition, I don’t think this album will disappoint. However, if you’re more of a lyrics person like I am, some songs definitely fall flat. 

High points on the record include “Love From The Other Side,” “Hold Me Like A Grudge,” “Fake Out,” “I Am My Own Muse,” and “So Much (For) Stardust.” Track four, “Fake Out,” is my personal favorite — it’s upbeat, with easy guitar riffs and drums that make you want to dance in your seat. Its chorus is where I see the maturity other music bloggers and critics are citing when they write about the album. “Love is in the air, I just gotta figure out a window to break out / Buried alive inside my dreams but it was all a fake-out” illustrates a fixation on old teenage daydreams and bitter attempts to remain true to who your 15-year-old self wanted you to be. This, paired with a sound perfect for a coming of age film soundtrack, gives me something to sink my teeth into — which is exactly what I’m looking for in a new favorite song. 

I also want to note the impeccable parallels between album opener and closer, “Love From The Other Side” and “So Much (For) Stardust,” respectively. When listening to these tracks back to back, I can easily visualize this sprawling, ill-fated, apocalyptic love story that is destined for the silver screen. Their lyrics speak to each other, with the repetition of “You were the sunshine of my lifetime / What would you train the pain for?” They’re altered ever so slightly in the final track: “In another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime / What would you trade the pain for? I’m not sure,” which feels like a slap in the face. It reads to me as: “we’ve just been through hell and back for one another, but now you can’t even look me in the eye.” It’s simultaneously heartbreaking and invigorating, thanks to the smart lyricism and powerful production value. I know they’ll play “Love From The Other Side” on tour this summer, but I think “So Much (For) Stardust” should be on the setlist too. 

The same could not be said for “Heartbreak Feels So Good,” “So Good Right Now,” “Flu Game,” “Baby Annihilation,” “The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years),” and “What A Time To Be Alive.” Again, all of these songs sound great. As a matter of fact, I love the early 2000s pop-punk energy of “Flu Game,” the return of Wentz’s spoken word poetry on “Baby Annihilation,” and the funky disco-esque sound in “What A Time To Be Alive.” It’s their lackluster lyricism and reliance on non-lexical vocables (e.g. “na-na-na” or “oh-oh-oh”) that makes me shrug my shoulders and go “eh.” 

I take particular issue with “What A Time To Be Alive” because of its direct references to the COVID-19 pandemic. Lines like “Everything is lit except my serotonin” and “I got the quarantine blues” make me physically cringe. It feels way too on the nose. There are much more interesting and clever ways to discuss the collective feelings experienced during those early lockdown days. 

Lastly, we have my bottom two tracks: “Heaven, Iowa” and “The Pink Seashell (feat. Ethan Hawke).” Based on other reviews I’ve read over the past week, “Heaven, Iowa” seems to be a favorite among listeners. I, however, think it’s insufferable. I never thought I would ever say this, but Stump’s vocals in the chorus are absolutely grating. It ruins the entire song for me, which is a shame because the four minute track builds to this robust, classically rock and roll conclusion that sounds fantastic. 

Then we have “The Pink Seashell,” which is just a recording of Ethan Hawke’s monologue from Reality Bites (1994) over moody synth instrumentals. In a 2020 interview with NME, Wentz discussed the possibility of a solo album and cited Hawke’s monologue as inspiration. In the film, Hawke’s character is given a pink seashell from his father. As the character reflects on this gift within the context of his father’s recent cancer diagnosis, he decides that life is pointless — “a random lottery of meaningless tragedy in a series of near escapes.” Rather than keeping him down, this allows Hawke’s character to recognize and cherish the little things in life. 

Wentz thinks “there’s a whole record from that perspective, taking part in these little pieces of life without the consequence. It’s important to not forget those little granular moments of life.” That’s great and all, but why is it featured on this album? It does not match whatsoever. I wish we felt this influence Wentz describes in his songwriting more rather than including the literal monologue as track seven. Again, it feels very on the nose, and I can’t help but groan.

Is So Much (For) Stardust a bad album? No, not in the least. Is it the comeback I was hoping for, while still keeping in Stump’s warning that it wouldn’t be a throwback record? Also no. As an avid fan, I don’t need — or necessarily want — Fall Out Boy to make a complete return to their roots. I love the incorporation of more mainstream pop on Save Rock And Roll (2013) and American Beauty/American Psycho (2015). MANIA may not have been anything to write home about, but it still has some stunning tracks where the lyrics prevail over the electro-pop genre and reminds listeners that their punk foundation is still intact. Without the slew of poetic lyricism I was anticipating, I find it hard to hold on to So Much (For) Stardust very tightly.