'So Much (For) Stardust' is Fall Out Boy at Their Finest

Written by Natalie Melendez, Photo by Pamela Littky

Fall Out Boy is synonymous with pop punk. The Chicago rockers (vocalist Patrick Stump, lyricist and bassist Pete Wentz, guitarist Joe Trohman, and drummer Andy Hurley) became the blueprint to the “emo” genre that defined the early aughts after 2005’s From Under the Cork Tree catapulted them to pop-punk stardom. This earned the four-piece top spots on the charts with songs like “Sugar We’re Going Down,” “Dance, Dance,” and, later, “This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race.”

But when the band took a four-year break following the release of the divisive Folie à Deux (2009), it seemed as if their glory days were over. It was only in 2013, with the comeback release of Save Rock and Roll, that the band reclaimed their throne, though to a lesser extent than in their earlier years. During the band’s hiatus, pop culture had shifted away from the pop-punk tunes that built Fall Out Boy’s career and turned to more traditional pop. Yet, the four-piece has remained an integral part of the pop-punk and modern rock scenes, and in 2023, the band’s biggest success is undoubtedly their longevity. It’s a feat afforded by the unconventionality of their ever-evolving sound, which has captivated the hearts of younger generations and sustained those of earlier fans. On their eighth album, Fall Out Boy continues to do just that. 

So Much (For) Stardust isn’t your standard pop-rock album; it’s everything all at once. The album nods to its predecessors, drawing from the eclectic collection of Fall Out Boy’s 20+ year discography to stitch together a highlight reel. But nothing sounds quite like it did two decades ago. So Much (For) Stardust feels big. There’s a newfound sense of sophistication strengthened by its grandiose orchestral moments (mimicking features of 2009’s Folie) and thematic cohesion, but the heart of the record ultimately lies in its dynamic sound. 

In addition to tapping into the band’s prior eras, So Much (For) Stardust leans into an alternate array of influences. “I Am My Own Muse” channels Danny Elfman’s and Prince’s Batman (1989) soundtrack. The song is eerie, a haunting interstellar exploration, but once the bass strikes it is distinctly Fall Out Boy. R&B and hip hop sneak in with the melancholically seductive “Heaven, Iowa” and in the last few seconds of “Flu Game.” Elsewhere, the record is soulful. “So Good Right Now” and the stadium pop anthem “What a Time To Be Alive” are sunny, hands-in-the-air tracks. The foremost takes its groovy intro from Thurston Harris’ “Little Bitty Pretty One,” the latter is a lyrically bleak pandemic tune fit for a wedding: “I got the quarantine blues, bad news, what’s left?” 

“What a Time To Be Alive” is only one of several deceptively cheerful tracks. Wentz’s glum lyricism is often cleverly muted by lively trumpets and sharp falsettos, playing into the record’s thematic dichotomy between nihilism and optimism. “Love is in the air, I just gotta figure out a window to break out,” Stump sings in “Fake Out,” a playful song about the ephemerality of good moments. On tracks like “Baby Annihilation,” Wentz’s spoken word track (a salute to 2005’s “Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying”), misery is felt in its entirety. “Charcoal crushed, pixie fever, angel dust/ Stuck in a wasteland we covered in glitter and broadcast just for a little serotonin,” Wentz recites, lamenting the insincerity of fame and the digital world. Even the record title itself, So Much (For) Stardust, comes off grim. It exudes a sense of dread that questions the meaning of a temporary existence.

By removing the title’s parenthetical addition, we unlock a more lighthearted approach. The remaining “So Much Stardust” embraces life’s briefness and uses it as grounds for making the most of our time on earth. “It was an uphill battle/ But they didn't know, but they didn't know/ We were gonna use the roads as a ramp to take off,” Stump sings in “Heartbreak Feels So Good,” acknowledging the hardships of life while appreciating them as catalysts for growth. There’s a similar sentiment in the title track: “What would you trade the pain for? I’m not sure.” It’s a lyrical reference to the jaunty first track, “Love From The Other Side,” that turns pain into strength and celebrates survival. However, it’s in “The Pink Seashell,” which exclusively features Ethan Hawke’s monologue from the 1994 film Reality Bites, where the record’s message becomes strikingly clear: “It's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the detail.” 

Indeed, So Much (For) Stardust is speckled with small satisfactions—a concept Fall Out Boy explores not only lyrically, but also instrumentally. “We wanted to make a record that was very tangible, that was very live in terms of instruments,” Stump said in an interview with NME. “What you hear on the record, somebody had to perform.” It’s the reason the band was eager to reunite with producer Neal Avron, who helped them savor the creative process on three of their previous albums (From Under the Cork Tree, Infinity on High, and Folie) and instill a sense of urgency. 

On the standout “Hold Me Like a Grudge,” every note is distinct enough to pick apart. The jagged guitar falling somewhere between anxious and raucous, the buoyant bass, snares, and even the claps in the pre-chorus—all of them are tangible enough to hold in the palm of your hand. During the record’s orchestral moments (the title track, “Love From The Other Side,” and “I Am My Own Muse “) even the violins escape the sonic plane, making for an ethereal soundscape. Tangibility also makes its way into the cover art. The title is sculpted out of purple clay and glitter, and at the center of the black cover is an oil painting of a dog amidst sparkling bubbles. It’s all a stark departure from the digital reign of the modern world and even the digitally distorted tunes on 2018’s Mania; it’s a return to the basics. 

On So Much (For) Stardust, Fall Out Boy proves there’s nothing more thrilling than finding joy in the ordinary. For them, that means creating music that, twenty-something years later, still sparks their creative drive and still resonates with their growing audience.