Two sides of British gruff-voiced pop punk. Bangers do theirs with little bits of Hot Water Music-esque breakdowns to keep things vaguely interesting. Big sing-a-long choruses probably get the kids all riled up back home. The pacing is a little off, the songs seem to speed up and slow down at awkward times, and the snare pop is pretty annoying. Despite all that, it’s not a bad effort, just nothing terribly exciting or innovative these days, which leads me to the Break The Habit side. My hope is that Break The Habit is a novelty act, the Jewdriver or Manic Hispanic of the shirts off beard-core drones that every other band at Fest has become. How else do you explain these lyrics: “We are singing, we are dancing all night long with our favourite bands to our favourite songs. There is nowhere that we’d rather be, and I’m so glad that you’re here with me. Just another show. Same old bullshit, same old friends.” Same old bullshit, indeed. This is “Bro Hymn,” only with different stripes of shitty beer and bad tattoos behind it.

 –Jeff Proctor (This One’s For the Crew,