I have a gag-like reflex towards what I consider to be insincere music and these are dark days indeed. The perverted hunter of cultural commodification has finally taken down independent music. Its corpse has been dragged to a taxidermist, dressed in silly clothes, and put up for display, selling everything from energy drinks and candy to clothing and cars. The one art form I’m truly passionate about has been reduced to the equivalent of a stuffed squirrel with a beer can glued to its paw. Label facing outward, of course.

Especially troubling to me, the reclusive, obsessive music nerd, is the indiscriminate use of the word “punk.” The term has recently found employment as a street-cred dealer, lending its reputation to any act fast enough to be denied “hard rock” status. Regrettably, the commodification of punk rock has rightfully long found a home in music critics’ reviews and on more than one VH1 talking head orgy. The genre has traded circle pits for parent rooms and black patches for black eyeliner. This new brand is defined by obvious hooks, expensive recording, and an omnipresent PR team that may or may not be recognizably human. It has been appropriated and used to sell very un-punk ideas like beauty standards and designer fashion, apolitical rebellion and commercialism, and most regrettably, it has been used to target children. Hawthorne Heights, how I loathe thee.

While I cannot advocate an emphasis on a band’s ideals over their music, I will insist that there is a bit of charm in the nuance of a good delivery and that punk rock, as a whole, has always placed a premium on the culture surrounding a group. It is thus hardly a wonder that Dillinger Four has been lauded by critics, colleagues, and Avril Lavigne as a sincere, true-to-form punk band. With lyrical discussions running the gamut from religion and politics to the commodification of the subculture (what a lame topic), Dillinger Four has laced their drunken brand of pop punk with the sort of substance many of their peers lack.

Unlike today’s self-aggrandizing rappers, most rock bands rarely proclaim their own namesake in song. Admittedly, there seems to be little precedent and the idea of someone screaming “Rilo Kiley, motherfuckers!” behind a jazz trumpet is a bit unsettling. “DoubleWhiskeyCokeNoIce” doesn’t strike the same nerve, but then again, it sounds more like a skewer and less like a celebration. Bassist Patrick Costello rightfully presumes that listeners can relate to notions of emotional isolation and frustration at a night capsized from the onset. With a nod towards the irony of finding inspiration in the most uninspiring of places, “DoubleWhiskeyCokeNoIce” sounds like a slightly more refined version of the thoughts that run through your head when you realize you’d rather be in good company than suffering some band’s ill-conceived set list. It also includes a sound clip from Otis Redding, “The Big O,” and the line “So I sat there drinking more, thinking ‘bout drinking more.” I mean, what else could you want?

“Mosh for Jesus” now seems notably ahead of its time. Released alongside “DoubleWhiskeyCokeNoIce” on 1998’s Midwestern Songs For The Americas, it acutely decries the cultural fault line running through US, birthed by religious extremists and celebrated by some as a step in the right direction. Here we have a sampling of D4’s vocal capabilities, employing the harmonies (I’m in a generous mood) of all band mates not wanting to be accused of a Don Henley impersonation. Highlights include, but are not limited to, the instrumentation and lead vocal drop that occurs before the final chorus and guitarist Eric Funk’s alien-like voice.

From their 2000 release Versus God, “Q: How Many Punks Does It Take To Change A Light Bulb” makes few concessions in its critique of commercialized punk rock and “packaged dissent.” There seems to be a general lack of discussion surrounding the effects of a profit-driven presence in the arts and clearly there is much to be said. Without needing to cite a bibliography, D4 engages in as mature an analysis as a two and a half minute pop punk song will allow. An intellectual detachment from lyrical messages and a focus on fashion and the semblance of rebellion trivializes any sense of social critique by watering down the discourse and rewarding bands and companies that are, in layman’s terms, able to walk the walk without having to talk the talk. I’d recommend seeing the group live to get a more in depth coverage of the issue. I’d also recommend not looking directly at the rotund Mr. Costello when he inevitably gets naked and does lewd things on stage.

Despite any insinuations to the contrary, Dillinger Four is not an “everyday band” for me. They are, however, an excellent group to take refuge in the next time Panic! At The Disco takes a shit on your ears. It is inexpressibly refreshing to listen to a pop punk song that’s not about getting revenge on ex-girlfriends or not being able to get a girlfriend in the first place. In a world where Good Charlotte makes millions more from their clothing line than from their ironically titled social critique Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous, it’s nice to see a band stand for something. Finally, something Avril and I can agree on.

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