Summer, 2001:  In their secret meeting place off of Bleecker Street, the various leaders of the New York City cultural elite convene to discuss the sagging image of the New York music scene. 

RECORD EXEC:  We are getting killed out here.  Britain is once again the hotspot for new music talent, and all the NYU kids are listening to this Euro-trash.  We need a NEW YORK band!

MEDIA MOGUL:  We need some real “feel-good” city boys that have style… yeah New York style!  But you know…with like some edge too!

MUSIC MAGAZINE EDITOR:  Unfortunately, in this monstrous metropolis, there is no band with any real talent. 

(Laughter all around)

RECORD EXEC:   Ha ha, that’s a good one.  Yeah, like we care if the band has any actual talent.  We just need to find some kids that can cross from indie to the mainstream and with the right PR company… attract all of the mindless superficial kids.

RECORD SHOP OWNER:  Yeah, like the “urbanista” Fashion Institute girls will buy into it because its stylish… but with enough of a rock bite that the random SUNY kids who haven’t listened to rock and roll since Sublime can rock out to it on MTV.

MEDIA MOGUL:  Yeah!  Like a watered down version of the Ramones.  That’s what will get this city back on its feet.  Just dress them up in some West Village tight clothes, make sure they have the standard Manhattan look of nihilistic insouciance during photo shoots and make their music sound more European and we can sell the shit out of this garbage.

RECORD EXEC:  OK that settles it, I’ll call Casablanca.  I owe him a favor and I hear that his kid and his idiot friends are working on a demo.