New Found Glory: Radiosurgery Review

Everyone still clings to remnants of high school glory days, like my PacSun jean jacket and my embarrassingly complete collection of Epitaph's Punk-O-Rama compilations. Thankfully, I was able to shake most of my music collection's three-piece SoCal wannabe "punk" acts-let's be serious, they were boy bands with instruments. Maybe my palette was altered by the growing pains of maturity, but most likely it was shell-shocked by the shrill, whiny vocals of A New Found Glory frontman Jordan Pundik.

Twelve years after NFG's 1999 debut Nothing Gold Can Stay briefly graced my Aiwa portable CD player, little has changed with their latest release Radiosurgery. Like the state-winning high school quarterback still squeezing into the ol' varsity jacket at age 30, NFG's Radiosurgery struggles to bring back gelled spikes, chain wallets and lyrics about girls.

Sorry guys, but you lost me at the opening title track's "I'm breaking down like a nervous wreck, my heart is beating out of my chest," an intro fit for the opening credits of certain movie involving a kid humping a pie. Radiosurgery's got the same "whoas," the same ultra-trebly guitar chords and four-note solos. Pundik's vocals maybe moved a half-octave lower since puberty, and so did the lyrics-those same lyrics about getting used by girls ("Caught in the Act"), playing hard-to-get with girls ("Summer Fling Don't Mean a Thing") and of course, pining over a girl by relating her body to a map hanging on the ceiling ("Map of Your Body"). …Errrm, awkwarrrd.

But the reasons why Radiosurgery fails to impress those who've moved on from high school sick-flicks are the same reasons behind NFG's staying power. I'll be the first to admit that, like the American Pie franchise, this band's got consistency. Their catchy hooks are an easy sell to the pre-teen set, as well as to late-20-somethings at their cubicles reminiscing the days of stealing Zima out of their parents' booze fridge in the garage. (I had to chuckle when one Twitter user remarked, "NEW blink 182, NEW new found glory, NEW saves the day… jeez, is my virginity gonna make a comeback too?")

The album kicks off the band's fall "Pop Punk's Not Dead" tour headed to the Ogden Theater in Denver in November. It's available to stream in the form of a surprisingly difficult Operation-style flash game where listeners unlock songs by removing junk pieces from a radio, making this review a challenge of both smarts and stamina.

Pop punk isn't dead. It didn't even age all that much, but it grew out of the Airwalks and into a new era of retro-infused acts like The Postelles, the dapper four-piece from New York whose debut released this spring blended the best of '50s doo-wop and cheeky New Wave into a neat rock'n'roll package. Have I waited too long to see the same revamped spark in NFG? Have I found that some awkward music selections should be left in the bookbags where we found them? Will American Pie's reunion movie next year shock and appall American audiences like its flagship? There are many ways to relive one's wild oats-a class reunion, a phone call to an old friend-but Radiosurgery is not one of them.