Reviewed by Eric Saeger
Specializing in the wispy, sparse and non-commital zen that defined 70s chill-folk-rock, this Cincy band makes elevator music for bongpackers old and young. They rarely deviate from a formula that nestles Blind Melon between Mountain and Belle & Sebastian â€“ wait, Iâ€™m lying, thereâ€™s some Warlocks fuzz-rock in there too. What Iâ€™m trying to say, and failing miserably, is that the band is perfectly named: itâ€™s strong and lithe, a little too sweet, blocky and chunky but simultaneously graceful. One thing youâ€™ll walk away knowing for sure is that this is historically accurate acid folk-rock; thereâ€™s no way you wonâ€™t think things along the lines of â€œJesus, did they have to chase the singer around with a butterfly net to get him to show up in the studio or what?â€ Reason for that is singer Jason Snellâ€™s half-there-ness; itâ€™s like early 70s Ozzy in ballad mode jamming with Canned Heat in endless variations on Going Up the Country, in other words about 70% of your basic Bonnaroo crowd would take to it like magpies to a roll of Reynolds Wrap.