NOTE TO BAND: Oh, Jesus Christ. You guys are fucked. You’re fucked, or you’re still in high school. If you’re still in high school, then you’re grudgingly forgiven, but please take heed, guys: it’s not forever. A couple more years and you’ll be out on your own and the drama will subside. There will be other relationships in your life. Don’t obsess over these girls so much. With that in mind, here’s the deal: I don’t care who you are, but unless you’re J Church and you’re also gonna reference Paris in 1968 or Trotsky or Viennese Secessionist art movements of the 1920s or some shit, don’t you fucking dare insert a lyric in a slow and cloying ballad that consists of, “She smelled just like cinnamon, the snow fell light in her hair.” Nobody except these girls that you’re obsessed over want to hear that stuff. Unfortunately, your entire record sounds like the sonic equivalent of a note someone would put in someone else’s locker. NOTE TO READERS: Saccharine-sweet Blink 182 pabulum of the lowest order. Perfectly molded, cookie-cutter, vastly unthreatening radio rock. Death before emo? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’ll take just about anything off the Wayfarers All comp, even the Pine, over this shit any day of the week. Despite their holier-than-thou title, the lyrics here are the most heartsick, obvious, trite “I love her, whoa whoa” lyrics I’ve ever heard, and I’d bet my last Pabst they’re vying like motherfuckers for that upcoming Warped Tour slot. Avoid this one for sure.
–keith (New School)