Being a disciple of Rivethead’s entire catalog, the first several times I took Dream Homes around the track, I thought it was too easy for these dudes. A steady diet of Weasel and bad decisions? Check. Flawless harmonizing about being desperate, barely-not-homeless, backing sealed-with-wax watertight guitars? Check. One of the most purposeful drummers in our world? Check. It sounded flawless, almost too well groomed. And when I think of these dudes I think of a lot of things, but “well groomed” is not on that list. (This is so not a dis.) But—and this is a large but—I found myself humming the songs days later. Not immediately. They had to bubble to the surface, through the layers of what at first seemed like a cake made purely of frosting. And like a familiar cat that you pet wrong just once, Dream Homes also has fangs and just-as-easy claws that slash unexpectedly and draw blood. Dream Homes is definitely pretty in its almost patentable punk pop, but it’s not fully domesticated. It’d be a mistake to take familiarity of their sound for granted. This grew on me like crazy.

 –todd (No Idea)