I imagine that, not long ago, a conversation took place at the offices of the Washington Post that went sort of like this:

Editor: Let’s do a story on a local band.

Writer: Great. There are tons of fantastic local acts playing some innovative stuff at area clubs. They’re putting together some interesting albums and getting some national attention, and I think they could really tell our readers some enlightening things about music today.

Editor: That sounds really good. I like that. How about this, though. You go find some teenagers, maybe somebody you’re related to, like a niece or a nephew, that are in a band. These guys should be young and clueless, and should play music that seems like it’s probably pretty edgy. Like punk, maybe. Is that how you say it? Punk? It would be best if they only play high school gyms and retirement homes, and see if you can get some quotes about how teenagers don’t like other teenagers because of their clothes or something. Then you’ll, you know, report on it like the whole story idea isn’t completely moronic, and we’ll sell some papers, all right? That’s good copy, am I right?

It’s hard to see how else the Post could have given the world this article, a story on the Virginia “screamo” band The Fear in Faith that has held DCist in awe all morning. It’s a thing of beauty, completely perfect in its lack of value. After the jump: we give you excerpts.