I don't believe in guilty pleasures.

When I like something -- no matter how embarrassing it probably should be for a 22-year-old male like me to admit affinity for Gigli or the Spice Girls -- I don't care who knows about it.

But I'm sorta into this one emo band, and it actually makes me feel a little dirty. The band, All-American Rejects, sings about teenage heartache and longing and all that other Laguna Beach stuff, just like every other emo band ever. But there's just something about the Rejects I dig, and it's got me all confused inside. So confused, that I'm about to give the band's new record, Move Along, a good review, in front of a whole lot of people.

Maybe it's the melodies; whereas most emo is mostly concerned with beating you over the head with stinging guitars, these spit-sheened pop-tastic Rejects tracks are surprisingly subtle and unquestionably catchy. Or perhaps it's Tyson Ritter's voice, which avoids emo's trademark whine for more of a soaring, almost power-ballady croon. Or maybe still, it's the lyrics; they're still teenage wasteland cannon fodder, perhaps, but there's something a lot less grating (or wussy?) about the Rejects' "I know you so better than the city in the rear view" than, say, emo monkeyboy Dashboard Confessional's "I'm cuddling close to blankets and sheets." But whatever it is, you'd never mistake this for anything but your garden-variety emo, and yet, it's got me in its hooks.

What's wrong with me? Blast you, emo! Maybe I'm better suited for this kind of thing than I thought. If you like mindless pop-rock (or, you know, crying), check out Move Along. Just don't tell anybody you did.

-- by Paul Thompson