Explosive post-hardcore laced with lapses of tranquillity, Standstill present song after song of unpredictability, harnessed into Fugazi-worthy seizures.
Multi-instrumentalist/songwriter supreme Mike Kinsella is back with his second Owen disc, again writing, peforming, recording, and producing everything himself.
Friends have tried to convince me of sinister undertones, and sure, I hear some, but I mainly hear folky hippie sap rock. Full on Simon & Garfunkle’n’shit.
Influences from Soul Asylum to Aerosmith, but if those bands tried to integrate soul-ska, joke rap, or sea chanteys, they’d come across as grade-A assholes.
“The Master,” a definite standout, is a little ditty about Satan and sounds like it’s backed by The Bad Seeds (Murder Ballads-era) with a lot more whip to it.
Political punk rock with samples, breakbeats, frantic paces, and both live and synthesized guitars. Lots of whoa-whoa’s, but also plenty of Chemical Brothers.