Sound a helluva lot more British than Icelandic. Copying countrymen Sigur Rós would’ve been a lot more interesting than the pseudo-Coldplay at work here.
The only melodic strength here is in the call and response vocals and ubiquitous whoa-oh-ohs, and that shit gets old faster then mayonnaise in the sun.
Leatherface’s tough-and-gruff, Fugazi’s hyper-emotionality, and an innate Japanese ability to contort melodies into visions of blood-dripping cherry blossoms.
Dropkick Murphys have stuck true to their Irish influence. They do a version of “The Dirty Glass,” the duet between ex-lovers, that is both comical and moving.
If I have to listen to one more “Punk Rock Sampler” as punk as Christina Aguilera and Backstreet Boys, I will rip out every hair on my head, very slowly.
Like a fleeting one night stand that is so magical you wonder if it ever happened, Lost in Translation and its soundtrack encapsulates a sense of “brief magic.”