This year, the Midwest had a doozy of a winter. Throughout October and November, we were lulled to a false sense of security through mild temperatures and a lot of rain, with the occasional quick snow. It seemed to be all over by December, and even into early January. But February began the winter of our discontent.
The great Polar Vortex of 2019 shut down West Michigan for an entire week, and longer in some places. I had my first snow day(s) from work as an adult. Temperatures dipped well below zero, so much so that there’s a video on my Instagram somewhere of me throwing hot water into the air to see if it would freeze. That week, I drove through a blizzard to a Panic! at the Disco concert that was not cancelled (and thank goodness it wasn’t, because it was awesome.)
We in the Midwest are pretty used to that kind of weather. Maybe not to that extreme, but cold winters come with the territory up here. Most of us are too proud to complain, even though by March most of us crawl down the street bleary-eyed, searching for the sun. Thankfully, our beautiful, temperate summers make up for it. All of us will still tell you that Midwest is best.
All of us carry the markings of our upbringing – culturally, geographically, biologically. A Texan can tell a Michigander from a mile away, in the same way that a New Yorker might stick out like a sore thumb in California. There’s a different vibe to where people come from, and if you move across the country or across the state, you take that vibe with you.
I grew up in the mid-sized Midwest town of Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I still live here. It’s a fairly “typical” Midwest big-small town – not as big as Chicago or Detroit, but enough to get by. Every other town I go to has a different vibe. Maybe some of them are a little more hip, or touristy, or granola. The only place I really feel “right” is in my hometown.
And I always find myself right back here.
Day 11: Lake Effect Kid – Fall Out Boy
Fall Out Boy feels the same way about Chicago. Michigan is not the only state susceptible to lake effect weather – northern Illinois also gets its share of polar vortexes. That weather pattern is the inspiration for the title of this song, off of their 2018 EP of the same name. FOB’s hometown has had a huge impact on their identity as a band, just as Lake Michigan affects Chicago’s weather, and how all of us are in turn influenced by where we grew up.
Sometimes when I’m in heaven
I get forgetful of the earth, woah
Until I hear you bickering like bugs and birds
The heat is off, gate’s open, the shade is down
This song is very much focused on the roots of FOB as a band. They joined together in Chicago, as already discussed, so many lyrics in the song are an homage to their home roots. It’s also a nod to one of their earlier albums, Folie a Deux, which has a lot of songs about drugs. They were a grunge-punk boy band after all. Who’s surprised? The song opens with Patrick Stump’s sky-high vocals sounding strained by the bickering of showbiz (hence turning to drugs to get high or be “in Heaven.”)
I got a pocket full of deadliness
Opium den mother forget my head
At the dead-end called Unsteadiness
Boxed blondes have less fun
I did not realize how much this song was about drugs until I started writing this like a half hour ago. But, it makes sense. Showbiz and drugs seem to go hand-in-hand, and I think a lot of it has to do with feeling misplaced. The last line of the refrain is “Boxed blondes have less fun,” sung in a taunting falsetto. Stamp (and lyricist Pete Wentz) is referring to people (specifically women) who dye their hair blonde, but are not naturally blonde. Eventually it starts to show in their roots that they’re not blonde. Just like how hometown kids from Chicago aren’t always going to fit into the shiny sheen of Hollywood.
Boomerang my head
Back to the city I grew up in
Again and again
Forever a Lake Effect Kid
And here’s the anthemic chorus which is the piece de resistance of the song. Sometimes the only thing you need to do is go home. Like a boomerang, we may go far, but we always end up back where we belong.
Oh, I got the skyline in my veins
Forget your nighttime
Summer love on a gurney with a squeaky wheel
And joke us, joke us
‘Til Lakeshore Drive comes back into focus
I just wanna come back to life
Spark my crazy head to keep you warm at night
In the second verse, Wentz begins to converge the two ideas of home and drug use into one – comparing home (Chicago) to a drug in and of itself. A place where you go to feel better, or feel good, or get recharged. Having the “skyline in my veins” is indicative of shooting up, so to speak. The verse gets desperate for something, anything to make them feel alive again after the madness of the industry.
I always like coming home, no matter how crazy life gets. Whether I’m going across the state, across the country, or across the world, I know I belong back in my Midwest home. You might say the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.
Or maybe, the boomerang just came back.
Audrey D. DeBoer 