I’m a man of many faults. One fault in particular applies to half of this record. It’s the one located somewhere in the crossed wires of my head that causes me to erroneously dislike things that I feel too many other people like. Especially if I didn’t get in on the very ground floor of all this overbearing love. There is absolutely no reason to point out how shallow and down right stupid this is. I think on it often. The Ergs are on fire right now amongst pop punk nerds and the level of praise heaped upon them irks me for some reason. Even though I know that they at least ninety percent fully deserve it. They’re just really good. I enjoy the sounds they make and their impromptu Green Day covers at record store basement shows in San Francisco please me. They’re really nice people. They were on a comp I did and I thought they fucking owned it. Our Bob Stinson who art in heaven wishes he could have nailed that solo so well. But somewhere in the back of my head I want to not like them on account of how much wang suckery people are doing right now over them. Totally not their fault. Mostly unreasonable. Like I said I’m a man of many faults. Anyway I tend to write reviews that rarely inform people of what records actually sound like. In short, if you wish that true pop punk (like Blink 182 never happened) had continued to progress from the ‘90s and maintained its vitality, you’ll be extremely stoked on The Ergs. They bring it in a way that hasn’t been done in a long time and its actual fucking quality. The lip service flood swirling around our waists right now for these guys is actually pretty well deserved. They’re not perfect and every song ain’t a gem but a whole lot of them are. Grabass...bring up the vocals in my monitor! You’re buried back there! You wrote a song about Aaron Kohl god damn it and I want to hear it in its full glory. My only real complaint. Of their two songs “Double Ding-Dong…this song title is too long” is the real winner. Maybe it’s my soft spot for that sweet as pie occasionally one man wrecking ball you call Kohly or maybe it just rocks the face off of the other song. There honestly can’t be a soul reading this magazine who doesn’t know what this band sounds like and I’m trying to knock these damn reviews out so I ain’t going to get in to it. They sound good. That’s all you need to know. On the other hand, something I need to know is why I’ve seen at least four or five record covers over the years with lottery scratch off tickets on them. What’s behind this odd choice of artwork? They don’t look cool so I can only assume it’s a cover for your gambling problems. Just because you made art out of your addiction doesn’t mean it’s not a problem!
–Steve Stephenson (No Idea)