Practically timeless, the pop punk trope of hating this town. It’s a potent ingredient to have in any song that ends up being formative for your adolescent years, a juvenile contempt that buys into the grandeur of its delusions. When I die, my last played song will be “Ocean Avenue.” This was a fixation I heartily indulged back when they announced the lineup of the When We Were Young festival, the sheer euphoria of that moment a faded memory as I write this.