Reviewed by Eric Saeger
More depleted pop soil for the grind from the latest entry in the endless procession of SoCal mall-punk bands, a resource more abundant in nature than carbon emissions from cow farts. I don’t spend a lot of time smoking joints in the back seat of mom’s Toyota these days, but I’m sure this generation of near-dropouts has many guys who can actually tell this band from Hoobastank and All Time Low, maybe through the identification of a subtle nuance like juuust a little more compression on the guitar, making it sound like something out of an old Barney Dinosaur skit, or maybe the singer is a little more like Green Day, you know, the ‘real’ stuff. For me, there’s only one thing separating these guys from the rest of the pack: they had the self-destructive impulse to rip off The Outfield and Toto – Toto – in opening song ‘So Obvious’. This not only jacks irony to new levels, it points to a defect in man’s evolutionary process, in which one would prefer hearing a baboon bonking a stick on a rock for hours on end over this.
Grade: C
