As you may be aware, The Chainsmokers have released their debut album “Memories… Do Not Open”.
It sucks. Plain and simple. My hatred for the album is on par with my dislike for dogs, cats, and pets in general.
However, if I did have to find one diamond in the pile of dung that is “Memories… Do Not Open”, I would have to say that My Type is semi-passible. That one song with Coldplay isn’t exactly horrendous either. Other than those two songs, the rest of the album is a dystopian wasteland of bland synth samples. Pair that production with lyrics seemingly written by a hormonal 16- year old girl and you have a recipe for a wholly forgettable album.
Why does everyone seem to love the album? The answer is simple; it exudes good vibes and good vibes only. If you’re chilling on a beach or driving down the highway with a group of friends on a hot summer’s day, you can’t help but flip on The Chainsmokers. In that sense, The Chainsmokers achieved what they set out to do. They crafted an album that is bound to be integrated into nearly everyone’s summer playlist.