Not the concept album of Bluefinger, this album sports at least a leitmotif: Demigods. Features strong, memorable choruses you can picture in movie trailers.
This female duo of bratty screamers are from Rome, bassless, and will throw your ass on the floor, against the wall, and rock your lame ass six ways to Sunday.
This isn’t my kinda “quirky indie rock,” but I respect Silverthree and Lobster and producer J. Robbins, and I’ll trust they understand why this band is worthy.
Great band, new singer. This guy Matt can yell, but he’s been on the same one note for the last five songs, and there’s only so long I can sit through it.