There’s a guy I work with who is just dumbfounded by the fact that I don’t like 311 or half a dozen other bands he loves. “They’re such talented musicians.” To which my response is: “I don’t give a good goddamn how talented they are. They’re not playing anything I want to hear.” Chuck Berry plays three chords and I’d happily listen to those three chords for three hours than hear some asshole noodling around being “talented” for three minutes. Gracer are talented musicians. It’s just three guys and I’m sure if you see them live there’s a minefield of awesome pedals and fancy lights all over their amps. But they aren’t playing anything I want to hear. At nearly five minutes a track I should be able to grab on to something here. The kindest thing you could say is that it’s “epic” indie rock. It drags on and on, pulling you through what sounds like out-takes from The Postal Service and/or Death Cab For Cutie catalog, and a lot of deep, emotional, poetic, schmaltzy lyrics that never hit their mark. If I could remember a single one of these songs I’m sure I wouldn’t be shocked when I heard it in the background of a particularly emotional scene on One Tree Hill or The Gilmore Girls. Revelation Records…I like you a lot. We’ve had a lot of good times but I’m watching you guys. The path tread by Victory Records and this sort of crap is paved with thousands of shifted units but it’s a dark one.