"A concept album about economic anxiety." That was what I called WORRY., the last album from Long Island pop-punk auteur Jeff Rosenstock back when it came out. A month later, "economic anxiety" became a buzzy term, a way for media professionals to attempt to explain how our country had just shockingly elected an incompetent racist dickcheese blowhard to the highest office in the land. Now "economic anxiety" means something other than stressing out about no longer being able to afford to rent an apartment in a major American city. Now those two words are inextricably linked with white racism, with millions' willingness to commit to something like national suicide because they don't like having to press 1 for English. And so now, less than a year and a half later, Rosenstock is back with another concept album, this one about attempting to function in an America that feels like that episode of The Twilight Zone where everyone is constantly trying to keep an all-powerful little kid happy.