An album that sounds like Jad Fair covering the Carpenters set to disco thump and roller rink strings. Yet another example of why music sucks right now.
A tent under which we can all get together. The rare artist who can be popular, yet not pander, be critically praised, yet comprehensible to the average jerk.
Chevelle turn a simple, stomping riff into a heavy, thoughtful anthem, filled with resentment, disillusion, and realism. The dripping meat hook of pure rock.