As I finish editing this I, in desperation, turn to whichever deity fancies undertaking some 0 hour contract work, in my sore and singular need to successfully obtain tickets for My Chemical Romance’s Milton Keynes show tomorrow morning.
After years spent desperately suppressing the fact, and otherwise ensuring an impeccably curated patrician taste in music (thus granting my opinions supreme authority) it’s time to come clean and accept that My Chemical Romance are my favourite band of all-time, yes even in the embarrassing 14 year old girl sense. It’s 2020 now, we’re moving on up, past internalised misogyny, past boring boys who sermonize on the beauty of King Gizzard, when you most certainly did not ask.
Since their aptly timed announcement of reunion on Halloween of 2019, I have rarely managed to escape a rapidly onset and intense return to my love of the band, any brief diversions to ‘exams’ or ‘Christmas with family’ rapidly circling back around to what truly matters. As it turns out, spending your formative teenage years consuming every piece of media relating to your current obsession you could scour for across the internet, in addition to forming a lifelong love affair with the WayBack Machine, will lead you to taking on knowledge that never truly leaves you. Hence, the prior three-ish months have been (well?) spent in being a general nuisance on Twitter, terrorising the timeline with friends of equally mall-goth persuasion. This energy has been channelled into many obscure routes of productivity, in an attempt to justify just how much time I wish to spend thinking of nothing but My Chemical Romance. Finally, here, I choose to be thorough. If I have so much to say, I may as well say it loud, say it proud, and say it here. What follows is a bottom-to-top ranking of every My Chemical Romance song (that I am aware of), covers are exempt, demos (that I, personally, deem to differ enough to be worthy of comment) and songs not officially released are fair game, swollen with insurmountable bias. Enjoy.
editor’s note: Upon reread the lower half of this list seems overwhelmingly negative. Rest assured, I adore their entire discography enough to a) listen to it enough to form this many opinions b) to spend so long writing this. This is from a place of pure, far too intense love. All Good Vibez!
The World is Ugly
I’m going to say it: Gerard Way deserves jail time for failing to record the far superior, darker version of the song as seen in live performances. Harsh penalties applied.
Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid / Traffic Report
A perfectly respectable interlude in which to kill off half your band.
Goodnight, Dr. Death
Sure! Did manage to cause a surge of emotions in its inclusion in the pre-reunion show overture.
Look Alive, Sunshine
As far as interludes go, this one is iconic and eternally quotable. Going straight into Na Na Na without this as a run up feels perverse.
Romance
Holds a special place in my heart for the sole reason of it being the most accessable learning point for a 12 year old Flora, armed only with an acoustic guitar with a crack down the neck, to continue to solely learn acoustically-viable pop-punk anthems, which continue to be the limits of her ability to this day.
Mama [demo]
Already blatant in its brilliance, yet solely exists to make me appreciate the later brilliance of the structure of the bridge even more. Liza, O how I yearn for you.
Every Snowflake is Different (just like you)
Therapy resigned!
Fake Your Death
Let’s deal with this, then. It sounds like The Heart Never Dies by McFly. I know this fact well, having been a proud owner of one of those McDonalds happy meal mp3s that played McFly’s song. I listened to it a lot. Not necessarily a flaw of the song itself, but still somewhat emblematic for a pretty unpleasant time to be a fan, with endless fallout drama post-breakup, and a need to readjust to WB’s cash grabs to come. Contains, however, some raw lines, “even good guys still get paid?” godly.
We Don’t Need Another Song About California
We Don’t.
AMBULANCE
This exists! Well-spirited, bad sounding!
Cancer
One heart wrenchingly straightforward song, tackling the viscera and medical unpleasantness of death in the most direct way out of any of the entries to The Black Parade. Unable to recover from ‘Hey Remember That One God Awful Twenty One Pilots Cover?’ Sorry.
Black Dragon Fighting Society
YEAH, I DRINK JUICE WHEN I’M KILLIN CUZ IT’S FUCKIN DELICIOUS. It’s dumb, fast fun. No complaints here.
Cemetery Drive
I Simply Do Not Vibe With It. And yet. ‘I miss you, so far’ succinctly captures an emotion that makes me feel like my insides are being wrung out.
Interlude
Hot Music For Radiohead-Ripping-Off Teens. On a sincere note, I Know, and they’re allowed.
Sister to Sleep [live]
Would likely rank far higher if some people cared to provide a high quality recording, I think I can hear some good things through the feedback.
My Way Home is Through You
Oh, teen angst. In its most glorious form! Is it a Green Day dig? Is it an REM dig? Why? Eternally confused by how much this is titled like a Danger Days’ track.
The Drugs [live]
Returning to the bands ‘fandom’ (hives!) spaces so to speak, after a period of absence during which I got obsessively other things, has given me renewed, hopefully matured perspective on a variety of things concerning the band. Primarily, the realisation of just how much, oh my god, The Black Parade made them absolutely miserable.
Headfirst for Halos
Impressive but annoying. I identify with this, and this quality is one I must begrudgingly admire it for.
F.T.W.W.W
The entire Mad Gear EP brings a level of pure unadulterated glee, regardless of any discussions of depth-slash-complexity, and it brings me so much pleasure that there exists a meta band for their killjoy alter-egos to listen to. It’s so dweeby. It’s fun! It’s trashy! It makes me dance!
This Is The Best Day Ever
A potentially forgettable entry, elevated by the ever-seared memory of the recording process upon my brain tissue. The approximately 10 seconds of backing vocals provided by Geoff Rickly elevate the entire album by an entirely disproportionate amount- he’s just that powerful. Weirdly, perhaps the bullets piece most indicative of the material to come.
Bulletproof Heart
Danger Days’ production is somewhat flat, which is a real let down, but god if the concept of running away from the corrupt law with your lover isn’t the pinnacle of romance.
Gun
The Jetset Life is Going To Kill You
Alas, brother, it sounds like noise. Noise of the highest calibre. Sometimes it is enough for a riff to be crunchy.
Bury Me in Black [demo]
Shoutout to Hampshire Library Service, whose copy of Life On The Murder Scene I had checked out for far beyond my fair share of time. We may be approaching peak edginess here, fellas, which is never something I’ve reprimanded for, and sometimes one simply must scream about wanting to see what your insides look like! That is ok.
Not That Kind of Girl
@ me when they start teaching a gender studies unit on this one.
Someone Out There Loves You [live]
If I haven’t emotionally bailed on Hoboken by this point, we’re already counting the situation as a firm win. Initial points for that, it’s a reward in and of itself.
Party at the End of the World [demo]
What it lacks in lyrical complexity, very much sounding like a rough draft, it makes up for in having a chorus that gets stuck in my head an embarrassing amount, I sorely wish there existed a cleaned up version.
Surrender the Night
If you smooshed every other CW song into one another it would sound like this.
Emily
Good for Emilies who, while likely let down in the same emotionally traumatic event of 2016 as the rest of us, got bragging rights out of it.
Drowning Lessons
Used to love this intensely, a feeling now somewhat tempered. incredibly of it’s time and scene, though not inherently flawed for if. I unfortunately remain a devoted sucker for the romance of a bonnie and clyde slash the living end scenario, and this surely tickles that itch.
SING
Catches a lot of flack for being cheesy and obvious, which seems unfair given that neither subtlety nor restraint have been trademarks of MCR from the get-go. Weirdly seems to have aged well, and the bridge’s redemptive power, even if you were to dislike the rest of the song, is unbelievable. ‘Siinggggg’ in the backing vocals of the chorus makes me want to eat my fingers, in a bad way.
Mastas of Ravenkroft
Failing to provide on the setlist’s promise to play this during the reunion was, in fact, a personal affront to me. I have no clue what they’re saying in this part, and I will likely go to my grave with 0 understanding of what Gerard’s tweet clarifying the scenario means, so ignorant bliss remains.
Summertime
Run away with me / Anytime you want still makes me lose my mind. Thoughts on Danger Days shall largely be confined to ‘hng ténder’ because I am terminally five years old.
Zero Percent
There’s a lot of B-sides that are preachy, fast and somewhat samey. And you know what? This is the best of ‘em. For all the high concepts of Danger Days, this track that failed to make it onto the album itself most makes me feel like a dangerous desert anarchist.
The Light Behind Your Eyes
Further proof to throw onto the rapidly growing pile of evidence of my becoming an utter sap with age. At some point we must stop recoiling from any show of earnestness and allow the overwhelmingly genuine and well meant violin ballad to wash over us.
Disenchanted
Unfortunately the nadir of The Black Parade for me as, while strong lyrically, it verges far too close to middle of the road, easy listening rock. It’s difficult to argue for it’s exclusion from the album, as it clarifies and ties together earlier themes introduced, making the concept. But sometimes things just sound bad.
Kill All Your Friends
3 edgy 5 me, except clearly not, really.
Welcome To The Black Parade
Suffers from chronic overplay syndrome. It may well be their magnum opus, but if this is my chem at their most bohemian rhapsody, I must remind myself that I don’t like Queen. Overwrought and overproduced. Hysterics divorced from catholic guilt. Loses that je ne sais quoi. I understand if you all get mad at me for this one.
Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us
Clearly god-tier verbose titling. Gains retroactive points, as does any song explicitly referenced circa-HA, for the callback in Millions, which, as anyone who has had the misfortune of . listening to either song will lead to extended periods of spiralling over the nature of time, love, and death.
Cubicles
Did anything hit quite so severely as “I can’t help but think I’ll die alone,” aged 13 and firmly weird? I cannot get on board with decrying some good ol’ self pitying lovelorn angst. That would be hypocritical.
Give Em Hell, Kid
Inseparable from LOTMS, hardly a bad fate. Somewhat of a btec thank you for the venom, but she’s still cute.
The End
I struggle to conceptualise BP as a real album, let alone a My Chem one. Not sure why. It’s not that I’m of the belief of it being untouchable superior to anything else produced by the band, as Revenge remains a personal favourite. It’s difficult to talk about in context as it is so much it’s own thing. Good OPENING, greatly communicates the scaling up that occured between albums, which I find hard to conceive to this day. I also enjoy the works of Pink Floyd.
Dead!
Hype. Thinking about if this were a 100 gecs joint (also, check this out). Wig.
Kiss the Ring
How many more times can one gal say ‘sometimes responses to fame are good, actually.’ The tongue in cheek opening manages to eviscerate both criticism stemming from misogyny and tabloid hand wringing in a powerful double hit, and never fails to make me grin.
The Only Hope For Me Is You
“If we can’t find where we belong, we’ll have to make it on our own.” That is all.
The Five Of Us are Dying
Presenting this as my evidence for my ‘Oh God Please Stop Overwriting Your Own Lyrics, God, Please’ (citing: “There’s writing on the ceiling that only I can see”?? That’s so good, I Am So Mad). Gerard has commented on just how much time was spent straining over the song that would become WTTBP, as vague drafts were in the works prior to Revenge. The issue was one of vague and indistinct theme. There is more of a coherent theme present here!
I certainly have no authority to remove WTTBP from its firmly entrenched, and likely well-earned position in pop-culture, and this earlier iteration does lack the epicness of scale to become such an iconic touchstone. It is thus only with heavy personal bias, I say that this is the version I would much prefer to listen to.
Tomorrow’s Money
Are you ready for your communism lesson?
Marx gulped.
Engels shuddered.
Mark Fisher blinked nervously.
Yes American rock band from Newark, New Jersey, My Chemical Romance they all said in unison.
Heaven Help Us
There is direct positive correlation between the quality of a my chem song, and the amount of lapsed catholic content. Hitting all the sweet spots here.
The Kids From Yesterday
Yeah Ok, I Just Cannot Listen To This One. This is less telling of the quality of the song itself that symptomatic of the unique trauma experienced in getting into a band two months prior to their break up. Slowly working my way back in but some wounds take time to heal.
Vampire Money
There is something deeply hilarious to me in going through the effort to include and off-concept Twilight diss track on your album, whilst being ok appearing on the Transformers soundtrack. A little anti-capitalism is ok, but let’s not go crazy. Improved exponentially by the image I shall now forever have of Nell having an ‘and then everybody clapped’ moment, skiing into a tree upon hearing the opening. Who can blame her?
Party Poison
Camping it up, a proven smart move. Lyrically ridiculous, and delivered in tandem, just fun. On relisten retains much more of the elements present in what was recorded prior, and would later be released as Conventional Weapons, and would not feel out of place there at all.
S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W
Apology time to to SCARECROW, which I for so long failed to appreciate for it’s pretty and laconic tragedy. Love through hard times, and ache.
I’m Not Okay (I Promise)
Irredeemably cringe, for some reason, until the big ol age of 19, at which point I can truly accept the fact wow :/// I’m :/ Not :/ Okay :/. Cheesy, terminally pop-punk, a cultural reset.
It’s Not a Fashion Statement It’s a Deathwish
TERMINALLY angsty, from title alone. TERMINALLY dweeby, in all of its Neil Gaiman referencing glory. And yet continues to supply one of the most wonderful endings, of which the band possess a glut of, supplying a more melodic strength to Revenge’s chaotic charge.
Sleep
A, previously unfairly sidelined, latecomer for my appreciation! A case of a simple concept executed really damn well. A wall of sound giving way to the slowed riff in the outro may be one of my favourite moments in all the band’s work.
Na Na Na
Songs To Establish Desert Communism With Your Friends To.
I Don’t Love You
Appreciated much more once old and jaded. Heartbreak beyond much else portrayed, as well as a cruelty rarely effectively captured from moments of true bitterness. If tasked, I am likely able to provide a ranked list of the specific live performances of this that make me ache the most.
Teenagers
Now eternally associated (tinged?) with the memory of the moment of the initial trailer for The Goldfinch, as it was playing in the bar of a hostel in prague as my friend messaged me to say that it had dropped, meanwhile some 30 year old American landlords were trying to chat us up. Effervescent.
Also a riff for the ages, obviously.
Planetary (GO!)
Absurdly fun, forever associated with my tumblr URL, aged 13, for better or for worse. In an album brimming with preached maxisms, Planetary easily dominates in terms of communicating the terror of what one sees, with increasingly manic bouncing guitar and one of the few standout bass riffs.
Vampires Will Never Hurt You
Haunted by a comment I once saw, noting that if this were to release today P4k would lose their minds. While wonderful to see the tides of cultural opinion turning, we now after all live in a post Fantano-sanctioned appreciation world, I’ve since been rendered unable to fixate on any other fact.
This Is How I Disappear/ The Sharpest Lives
Functionally a singularity. One cannot thrive without the other’s existence. Perhaps this is because of their inescapable similarity. I reject this hypothesis. Once the opening of ‘How I disappear’ hits, the euphoria provided by the mere remainder of the song will not suffice, thus the spy-ish riffs of Sharpest Lives are mandatory. “Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands, drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo” permanently altered my brain chemistry.
The Ghost Of You
Inseparable from its music video, and yes I may just be saying that to comment on how I truly think about the transition from the dancefloor to the seafront every day of my wretched existence. I didn’t go to film school. I went to film. Evocative to the point of being the cause of genuine emotional distress if it comes on shuffle when I am otherwise aiming to, like, walk to Pret and am suddenly thrust into the horrors of war.
You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison
DESTROYA
Immediate points for the Reading performance being the inciting incident of ‘oh. They are It. This is It’ for 12 year old me. Once again retroactive HA clause is applied. It’s semi-nonsensical, with good fun anti capitalist sentiment sandwiched between extended periods of moaning that require background comic reading to explain. If certain songs are more On Brand than others, DESTROYA is pure, distilled ehm cee are.
House of Wolves, Version 1 [demo]
Secret bonus song round! If I think too long about how this is easily one of the best things the band, tucked away under such an innocuous title, have ever made I start to get really peeved and shaky! Sonically rather distinct from anything else they’ve put out, leans super Sonic Youth, every person to compare it to Ghost of You is a narc. It’s not receiving its own entry, so I shall use space to preach the superiority of House of Wolves’ v.2 lyrics to the final product. Sometimes you really have to lean into the angel as a lover thing.
Famous Last Words
“Overwrought”, a bit tacky, utterly brilliant. Doomed to make me think of every tacky ‘I am not afraid to keep on living’ tattoo, on the verge of infection, that I as a citizen of the internet have been subjected to.
Blood
Unironically may be one of the best things they’ve done. Early entry to the ‘Gerard Way, Alone, Is Allowed To Whinge About Fame And Success Because He’s Good At It And I Like Him’ canon.
Make Room!!!!
Nothing else in MCR’s entire discography slaps quite so severely, nor makes me want to scream quite so much, as “GOT A TASTE FOR CA$$H AND ANDROGYNY.” Did a wonderful job in guaranteeing relistens as I remain dubious on exactly what the mumbled lyrics in the background say, and for some reason it’s imperative that I know definitively.
Skylines and Turnstiles
WHAT an opener. It’s neigh on impossible to conceptualise any other group presenting this as their first song, it’s raw emotionality rendered impossibly beautiful. I’m always keen to recommend Lindsey Ellis’ series on media response to 9/11, even with knowledge of that context, it becomes blatantly clear just how many eons above a jingoistic brand of shallow nationalism Skylines becomes as a response to collective trauma. It’s a call to arms, one from pain previously inconceivable, and is yet such a show of love. “You’re not in this alone! Let me break this awkward silence! Let me go on record, be the first to say I’m sorry!”
Helena
Somehow transcends it’s seemingly inevitable consignment to the ‘doomed due to incessant overplay’ category, retaining a still stinging emotionality that I am helpless to explain. I think it’s that even now, coming up 16 years down the line, true, raw grief, still in the midsts of being processed, echoes in a deeply human way. Gerard’s delivery set the band apart from so many of their contemporaries, as his willingness to go wholly unhinged with grief, here, reflects.
House of Wolves
Notably difficult to listen to for purposes of assessment, as my brain sees the opening drums as prime time to switch off, allowing my unconscious self to lie back and let the wall of chaos hit. We’re hitting on some mcr gold here, with ample nods to Catholic guilt, hints of the cartoonish folk punk to come in Mama, truly unhinged delivery that is just joyous.
Our Lady of Sorrows
In case you were in doubt of what a number mcr’s specific brand of sexy-guilt-goth-catholicism did on my soft and malleable brain, as I write this I am sitting next to my paper embroidery piece of Ripley from Alien draped in full our-lady-of-sorrows garb. I went to a CofE primary school.
Desert Song
Uncomfortably raw, a stunning confrontation with the lowest lows that come with being thrust into a half-life of touring, and being deeply unsure of your own mortality. I’m sorely and embarrassingly ill-qualified to capture just how well-written this song is, and can only say how prominently the specific imagery has remained with me- swollen clouds, divide observance, and tasting gravel. The epitome of a hidden gem.
Demolition Lovers
HAND IN MINE <3 INTO YOUR ICY BLUES <3 AND THEN !! I’D SAY!! WE COULD TAKE TO THE HIGHWAY!! WITH THIS TRUNK OF AMMUNITION TOO AND THEN I’D SAY TO YOU, WE WOULD TAKE TO THE HIGHWAY!! I’M TRYING!! I’M TRYING !! TO LET YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME!!! anyway you get the gist. Jesus Christ.
Thank you for the venom
Ahhhh I’m crazy now! Gerard Way is granted the required pass, allowing worshipping of, and thus the invocation of Morrissey. He uses it well in an opening worthy of remedying any caught breath in readiness for the riot of a song that is the come. The definitive my chem song in my eyes, consecutive ‘give me’s forming a conduit for so much dismissed teenage angst, expressed with the sincerity it always deserved. Riff to this day guaranteed to make me go crazy stupid.
Save Yourself I’ll Hold Them Back
Remember speaking about the epitome of romance, way back, up there? Yeah, this is it actually. If the love doesn’t feel like Save Yourself I’ll Hold Them Back then I don’t want it.
Hang Em High
Cowboy punk ought to be a far more prominent fusion genre than it is. Sometimes it really isn’t that deep, sometimes you just wish to sit for 2 minutes and 48 seconds and feel as though a of band of horses are stampeding over your wrung out frame.
Boy Division
Listening to famous people whinge about fame is never a particularly rewarding endeavor; songs concerning this matter tending to indicate a turning point in an artist’s career, where they’ll never again quite recapture that same ‘something’ they possessed back when they were an ordinary person complaining about run-of-the-mill nuisances, like exes, and deals with the devil. Put up and shut up I’m afraid, sweethearts. This sanction is removed, always, for Gerard Way, who has perfected the art of whining about the pitfalls of fame. It is pitiful, it is angry, and it works.
Early Sunsets Over Monroeville:
And they were correct in pinpointing dawn of the dead as the most Tender and Heartbreaking thing in the world. Bullets is an absurdly good first release, validating any otherwise likely lofty seeming claims of the band being something notably special since it’s conception, and if anything solidifies that fact it is surely the countermelody to Sunsets. An impromptu guitar piece by a last-minute addition to the band has the power to, at any moment, reach and squeeze my organs in a manner that causes physical pain. Who needs structure when you could simply wail?
I Never Told You What I Do For A Living
Every single moment is patently guaranteed to make me lose my mind. Somewhat a predecessor to ‘Mama’ in demonstrating just how much one can unexpectedly excel in employing their waltzes. As an album closer, I am truly unable to conceive of something more perfect in it’s, initially gradual, and then very rapid, progression to pure panic, as the catastrophic realisation of one’s own irredeemability becomes clear. It’s a wailed acceptance of the knowledge of what must be done, and every single word is electrifying.
Mama
Discussions and debates about any theoretical ‘emo trinity’ ought to have begun and ended the moment my chemical romance got a liza minnelli feature. they were forever playing an entirely different game, you fools. Every single listen leaves me blindsided by just how many phases the song goes through, each one achieving the seemingly impossible task of building on the other.