It’s strange that D4’s become such an important band to me after years of resistance on my part. At first, I think I had them confused with Dillinger Escape Plan, so I’d never pick it up. Then, this rad dude Barney bought me the split with Pinhead Gunpowder. That should’ve done the trick, right? Nope, probably never even listened to their side. So when, years later, Todd Taylor forced Midwestern Songs on me, all I heard was a bunch of samples and other hoo ha in between the songs. But then, again due to Todd since I borrowed his truck for a few days and it was the only CD in there, I listened to it. Over and over and over. And at somewhere close to the halfway point of those seventy-two hours or so, it just clicked. I never had a mild like in between. Disdain to enamored and instantly hungry for more, listening to everything I could find. They are pretty much everything I believe in, to state it simply. Talk to any of them one night and it will be the dumbest conversation about what a fart can tell you about a person, but then the next night, the conversation is just as likely to leave me walking away with a list of things I need to read because I just felt like a moron. They understand that balance of smart and funny, of fun and anger, of knowing what battles are worth fighting. I mean, shit, my dad called me one day after reading an interview with them to tell me that he finally understood my life, and I thought that was pretty fucking perfect. So, given their place rooted so deeply in this bum ticker of mine, I’ve been waiting for this album since Situationist. When the first track came on, I swore it was Jawbreaker. It’s nothing against Jawbreaker; I downright adore some of it, but it’s just not right here. It’s the recording. It’s just too clean for me. The songs are solid and growing on me, and live they’re awesome, but it’s taking some time. I want it to be a bit uglier and raw, but, I’m sure as I did initially, I’ll come around.
–megan (Fat)