On the cover of this 7”, there are four sets of legs, a cinderblock wall five blocks tall, and a cat walking by. In the middle of the background is a can of Tecate on its side. Most telling is that they’re standing on what first looks like dying grass. Until you look under the cat’s front paws and see a seam in the grass. They’re standing on well-worn astroturf, filled with leaves. Who has an outdoor vacuum cleaner these days? French Exit is from Chicago, California. They’re standing on the formidable shoulders of bands like the Lawrence Arms (anthemic, self-effacing / self-loathing, catchy crunch) and Weezer. (And since we’re all standing here naked with a couple minutes before anything happens, I’m not the biggest Weezer fan, but I pretty much dig punk bands roughing up their rag doll pop as an influence.) French Exit are definitely growing on me with each successive spin. They come across as a band that, if they stick around, will get tighter, more powerful, and are, ultimately, a much better idea than laying astroturf in your backyard in an effort to save money on water… because that shit gets sad and depressing. Brittle, dirty astroturf.
–todd (Solidarity, solidarityrecordings.com, frenchexit.com)