3 (File Thirteen)
By Craig Regala
Good one. Honestly blowing up their indie-grit-garageist grrr! into a more fluid, dynamic, plastic acid bite is a damn relief. Shuddering broken cords ‘n’ riffs form songs and bite down for a bass, drums, vocals, psych/snot stroll down the highway labeled fuck yeah! The tunes are there, the playing hits notes and beats hard enough to bloody any nose, the recording is great, and they can do a couple Monks covers when they play my next rent party and I won’t bitch at all. Not retro, not modern, just… real. If they opened for Rocket From the Crypt, there’d be a buncha happy souls at their merch booth throwin’ cash like confetti. Do they sound like RFTC? No. But remember, red wine complements red meat, right? Now go spend some money.
(PO Box 804868 Chicago, IL 60680)