John Bender: Gothic Rock
We all knew John Bender had to be some type of rock with his lumberjack-y sense of style, nonconformist attitude, and inability to give a crap about where the nearest barber shop was. This specific kind of rock is post-punk with gothic overtones, and it’s known for having introspective and sometimes romantic lyrics. These lyrics aren’t unlike thoughts likely passing through Bender’s mind on the regular: about his abusive father, and the fear that he might follow in those footsteps. A little darker and a little different, Bender fits the gothic rock bill. While the majority of high school kids might be driven by some fraction of a moral compass, you’d have to wave a fresh pack of Marlboros over Bender’s head to get him to do you any favors.
Claire Standish: Bubblegum Pop
This is upbeat pop made for teens in an “assembly line” process run by the producers-- and more than likely featuring unknown singers. It’s aim is an instant gratification kind of hook, a concept Claire, who skipped school to go shopping, is not unfamiliar with. This music lacks TLC in the making, much like this princess. Her rich daddy and alcoholic mother likely came closest to such by buying her a fancy flat screen that would stream the tv network. Who needs love and support from your parents when you could just binge watch Jon and Kate Plus Eight? I still haven’t figured out why the network was called TLC; the actors kept getting divorced or arrested… or killing their pets. Yes, that happened.
Andrew Clarke: Pop-Rap
The cool guy jock just fits Pop-Rap too perfectly. It’s catchy and sometimes raunchy and crude, kind of like when Andrew taped poor Larry’s butt together. Let’s be honest, a lot of pop-rap artists sell out when they go borderline rabid for fame. Andrew sold out in a way, by following his father’s every command instead of ~listening to his heart~. I guess he never watched Disney Channel as a kid. Andrew ends up giving a drug-induced confession that he doesn’t even want to wrestle. It was just another one of his jerkwad dad’s desires being pursued vicariously through him. A little Disney binge-watching would really be helpful at this point, where the trademark “I’m not giving up my dream [mom/dad], I’m giving up yours” line would have been more appropriate than the PG rating on all the movies featuring it.
So. Much. Angst. Known as the basketcase, she admits to showing up for detention purely due to boredom and loneliness. Two emotions anyone who ever wrote a successful nu metal song is very familiar with, probably. This type of music is pretty focused on guitar riffs and syncopation (which is unexpected-sounding offbeat kinda rhythms). Allison Reynolds is the human embodiment of syncopation. She cuts off circulation in her fingers to pass time, and adds snow to her drawings in a creative (and totally not disgusting) way by scratching her head to drop a lil dandruff onto the pages. The squeals Allison makes while head-banging her desk after any inquiries from the principle would fit perfectly on a Limp Bizkit track. It’d be the icing on the grungy, riff-heavy, melancholy melody-filled cake. I dunno about you, but I want a corner piece of that.
