A Poised & Rational Critique of Early 00’s Emotional Literature Vol. I
Often overshadowed by the hellacious vocal performance and spandex-esque denim hugging the hips and thighs and shins and calves of the vocalist, the lyrical depths of early 00’s teenage ballads were frequently overlooked in favor of the melancholy that swelled deep in the loins of our hearts. These seminal tunes harken back to an era where self-pity and wallowing depression were points of pride for many of society’s developing youths. While these lyrics are deeply engrained in our semantic memory, it is easy to recite these literaturical masterpieces without any sort of analysization. The purpose of this essay is to dissect the narrative of a song we’ve all sung in the shower at the peaks of our lungs while our parents were prancing around at Kroger, free of the emotional baggage that we had spent the first 14 years of our lives accumulating.
Cute Without The “E” (Cut From The Team)
Performed by: Taking Back Sunday
Writer: Adam Lazzara
Year: 2002
Your lipstick, his collar
Don't bother, angel
I know exactly what goes on
To open the song Mr. Lazzara resoundingly declares his masterful deductive reasoning abilities. It appears as if our protagonist’s lover (possible current ex-lover) left some of her Mary Kay Gel Semi-Matte Haute Pink lipstick on the collar of one of Mr. Lazzara’s male counterparts. Once aware of exactly what goes on, Mr. Lazzara is uninterested in hearing any sort of rebuttal from his former angel regarding her alleged infidelity. Which brings us to the 1st verse:
When everything you'll get is everything that you've wanted, princess
Well, which would you prefer?
My finger on the trigger, or
Me face down, down across your floor?
Me face down, dead across your floor
Well, just so long as this thing's loaded
During Mr. Lazzara’s confrontation with the accused, he presents his former princess with two uncomfortable options: his finger on the trigger of an unspecified gun being aimed at her (assumedly a fully automatic assault rifle, which was legal to purchase in 2002 [and as of 2019, flummoxingly still legal to purchase]); or him face down, dead across the floor of her newly renovated bungalow. However, neither option may be viable due to Mr. Lazzara’s uncertainty that his former lover’s uncle’s snakeskin AR is sufficiently loaded. Here we see Mr. Lazzara tactfully and successfully use violent and exorbitant imagery to enhance his dejected and over-dramatic persona, which culminates in the song’s chorus:
And will you tell all your friends
You've got your gun to my head?
This all was only wishful thinking
This all was only wishful thinking
In the chorus, Mr. Lazzara makes his desires known; for his princess angel to verbally let all her friends know that she has her AR pointed at Mr. Lazzara’s Parietal lobe. A strange request indeed. Even stranger, it appears that this scenario is only wishful thinking on Mr. Lazzara’s part. Here we see Mr. Lazzara’s mental health deteriorate further by his desire of some sadistic, nonsensical roleplay. Our protagonist’s subsequent dialogue with the newly discovered strumpet is documented in the 2nd verse:
Don't bother trying to explain, angel
I know exactly what goes on when you're on, and
How about I'm outside of your window?
Watching him keep the details covered
You're such a sucker for a sweet talker, yeah
Mr. Lazzara reiterates the fact that he lacks desire to hear any exonerating evidence from his former Ms. Angel. As if some sort of omniscient being, Mr. Lazzara is acutely aware of his former wanna-be-bride’s secret activities. However, he gives his methods away after admitting to climbing up the 30 year old peach tree outside of m’lady’s window and witnessing a plot of perceptual heist. Or quite possibly, additional fornicative exchanges involving his betrothed. Either way, it is revealed that his dream woman is easily seduced by blarney wordsmiths.
Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens
A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins
I will never ask if you don't ever tell me
I know you well enough to know you'll never love me
Why can't I feel anything from anyone other than you?
And all of this was all your fault
At this point in this crestfallen tale, Mr. Lazzara has devolved into a state of incurable depression. Mr. Lazzara’s best option is for nothing to come of this unfortunate triumvirate. It appears that Mr. Lazzara has cleverly documented his woes onto gravy-marred napkins from the local Golden Chick, vowing to never ask of his mystery woman’s covert nocturnal affairs. Applaudingly, Mr. Lazzara has gained enough self-awareness from his troubles that he can now assimilate his ex-lover’s lack of affection for him. Suspiciously, our protagonist believes himself to be void of any responsibility for this current quagmire. While Mr. Lazzara may be pure of any wrong-doing, the listener should caution their assumptions of his innocence due to the one-sided nature of his account. Mr. Lazzara’s penchant for violent dramatics and peeping tomfoolery suggests that he is no altar boy.
I stay wrecked and jealous for this
For this simple reason,
I just need to keep you in mind
As something larger than life
She’ll destroy us all before she’s through
And find a way to blame somebody else
In closing, Mr. Lazzara admits his perpetual jealousy for his inamorata, but feels compelled to think of her as an unattainable object, perhaps to self-depreciatingly comfort his own doleful psyche. Mr. Lazzara’s confidence has taken a calamitous blow and the song ends with a caution to the rest of humanity to avoid this wily temptress. It is unclear what harm our antagonist seeks to inflict upon her terrestrial peers, but it would be brash to prematurely cast blame onto another before considering her involvement in humanity’s sudden extinction.
While masked as a blithesome and catchy rock tune, the true message of Cute Without The “E” (Cut From The Team) is one of heartache, infidelity, and pain; aimed at pre and post-pubescent sadsacks. Regardless, Mr. Lazarra’s magnum opus has truly stood the test of time, as it is nostalgically praised as a staple of early 00’s American emotional literature. Regardless of one’s ability to personally relate to the fatal turn of events as outlined in this story, one takeaway is crystal clear: don’t be a putz and let lipstick get all over your collar ya big dummy!!!!
