I have to confess this. For the longest time, I was nearly head-over-heels in a man-crush with Andrew McMahon, the front man of Something Corporate and Jack's Mannequin. It's embarrassing, I know, but it needed to be said. I think it could have been that just-the-right-amount-of-whiny tenor voice, or maybe my own When JM's agonizing album "Everything in Transit," hit my stereo some time during my Junior-ish year in high school, it climbed my iTunes most-played list in about a week. I promise this is all relevant context.

When JM's second album "Glass Passenger" debuted about a month ago, I was secretly excited for some more pointless angst (and crashing deluges of piano solos). After I popped the album into my decrepit Dell Inspiron, everything was right where it was supposed to be. I think I was eating strawberry vanilla yogurt, in my favorite jeans, and sure enough, the angst and slamming piano chords bounded through my scratchy speakers, but something wasn't right.

I don't know who changed. Maybe it was me, maybe it was McMahon, but my ears were nowhere near jovial. I think I listened to the album 1.7 times when I decided I could take absolutely no more. The vocals aren't as fine-tuned as I had remembered and those lovely melodies now felt immature. Just to make sure I still liked "Everything in Transit," (it had been a while, ya know), I filled my whirring contraption of a laptop to the debut album. I still enjoyed it. Of course, some of this was fleeting nostalgia, but the adolescence wavering in his vocals was smoother (retouched, probably) and full of conviction.

In comparison to "ETIT," which feels like an onrushing of painful emotions, "Glass Passenger" seems like Andrew McMahon decided it was time to make another album, because people were getting antsy. What I'm trying to say is that McMahon has regressed and I've distanced myself. We've grown apart. It's upsetting but sometimes doing the right thing isn't easy.