I'm going to start a cult for this band. When this CD made its way through the hands of various Indiana kids, we knew we had something hot in our hands. The show was booked, the show happened, the show destroyed, and we were all left tossing and turning in our beds, dancing in our sleep to Liars songs. Throw everything you knew about by Gang of Four, Wire, etc. out the door. Who needs them? Who needs obvious politics? We want the Liars. We want to dance and a destructive party-atmosphere. Its opens with the hip-thrusting "Grown Men Don't Fall in the River, Just Like That," where they claim to "have their fingers on the pulse of America." Perfectly placed hand claps are coupled with the stunning vocals, talky and loud, crooned and screamy by way of the too tall (but in the best way possible) Angus. His extra cute vocals, backed by the rest of the extra cute boys, make the girls swoon with his Australian accent. The boys swoon too. They just won't admit it. One will not be ashamed to sing the lyrics to the now infamous (in our city) "Loose Nuts on the Veladrome" with its heart-stopping bass lines, pogo-inspiring drums, and totally chaotic monster of guitars, screams, and madness. You don't care what they say, as long as the words you make up sound good. Now you get a beer. My favorite two tracks have got to be "Tumbling Walls Buried Me in the Debris With ESG" and "We live NE of Compton." Two drastically different songs – the first being a bit more relaxed, the latter not so much. "ESG," is perfect daytime driving music, intimate too. It leads you with witty and tight-as-fuck drums (yes, drums can be witty, damn it) thanks to Ron (ex-Mercy Rule), and a funk-hay bass line by Pat (ex-Opium Taylor, Midwest yah!). The lyrics, "Leave your work at home, put down your briefcase," will brainwash you enough to do just that. See, it is like a cult! "We LiveNE of Compton," is what disco should have been. If Aaron's guitar doesn't cut you like a knife, the bass will make you dance like Lisa Simpson's tap-dancing shoes. We end with "This Dust Makes That Mud," an epic masterpiece of zombification rock. This is the Liars own "Didn't We Deserve a Look at You the Way You Really Are" (by Shellac). You have to listen to the whole damn thing, or you just won't get the whole experience. In the end it all makes sense. Not only do the Liars and the Locust write the best song titles on earth, the Liars are the epitome of everything you want
–guest (Gern Blandsten)