There are probably five thousand words to be written about the recouperation and corporatisation of punk and alternative music that has led to the existence of this record. There’s probably another five thousand to write about the same process for meme culture. The Wendy’s EP isn’t worth that time and effort from me. Due to my inability to not commit to a bit (which I should really discuss with my therapist as a potential form abstract self-harm), I volunteered to spend the Sunday evening of the weekend I scattered my father’s ashes sitting in a Wendy’s car park listening to a six track advert.

I had no expectation that this record would be anything other than soulless, vacuous slop when I came into it. And to be clear, I hold no ill will to the various featured musicians on the tracklist. It’s hard to make a living in any music scene these days, I hope they all took the hamburger money and delivered their performance with as little effort as possible. Gods know, if Wendy’s asked me to appear on an emo EP for them, I’d invent new levels of phoning it in to the extent that Alexander Graham Bell would get jealous. But with all of that said, this record has even less substance than I could ever have expected.

If you have listened to a reasonable amount of emo from around twenty years ago, you’ve heard all these songs before. There is nothing particularly special about any of them musically. It’s nostalgia bait for people my age, and it’s lazy about it. But that’s what I was expecting really, what lowers this to the level of pure dross are the lyrics. Throughout the entire record, there are innumerable references to emo bands and songs of years past. Why are we singing about a drive through on Ocean Avenue? Because that’s the name of a song you should know, of course. Did you catch that clunky Angels & Airwaves reference? I bet you did, I sure hope it’s not distracting and weird to be crowbarring this in next to equally eye-rolling references to burgers and fries.

One of my favourite lines in emo is “my dad says I’d probably have more fans, if I could learn to sing about some happier shit” from Spanish Love Songs incredible song The Boy Considers His Haircut. I love it not because the experience literally happened to me, but because it’s a very specific experience that ties into a deep emotional truth that I, and many other people, can share with the artist. The first track of the Wendy’s EP, She Said She Didn’t Want Fries, spends its run time complaining about… well it’s in the title. Maybe it’s because I’m nearly thirty, I’m married and I’m reasonably well emotionally adjusted, I cannot buy into three and a half minutes of upset that a woman in my life might change her mind about the fact that she did want chips with her burger. It’s a shrug and move on kind of situation here, rather than being slapped in the face by a parent’s misunderstanding of who you are as a person and how you want to express yourself like we see from Spanish Love Songs.

I Miss The Sunroom is a highlight on the record. Like ninety-five percent of emo ballads, it’s shit. That at least brings it much closer to its source of inspiration but also the idea of a place of innocent, childhood happiness being lost makes for a good idea for an emo song I suppose. Sadly the insurmountable barrier of being a transparent advert undercuts any potential for true emotional resonance.

It’s Not a Phase, It’s a 10pc simply recycles an old meme about emo over another bland ballad backing. My Frosty’s Funeral and The Best Combo Meal on the Worst Night of my Life both pretend to get a little heavier, but given that this record’s production is haunted by the spirit of my nemesis John Feldman (he’s alive, I believe but he still haunts me regardless), they fail to achieve any actual heaviness. Salt in the Wound is so forgettable that I’d have to betray my own intention of only listening to this EP once in a Wendy’s car park to tell you anything about it.

There’s not a lot else to say about this record. There’s really nothing to it, nothing to get your teeth into if you want anything more than bargain basement emo and fast food references. This is the worst record I will hear all year, but it is the only record I’ve heard that unquestionably achieved all its goals. I bought Wendy’s, I listened to the record and then I talked about it. Therefore I have no other choice than to award it five stars.