Your friends Lyle Sheraton and The Daylight Lovers from Canada present a brand new way to do the old fashioned. It's not exactly gregariously suave as Carl Perkins nor as bad boy cool as Gene Vincent, but the Daylight Lovers take their elementary cues and run clear across the 50-yard-line of your average modern day cruisin’, bruisin’, screwin' garage slop. This is outlandishly horrid with enough bravado to make you want to cheer for even "more abuse." The Lovers' version of cult punk favorites The Pack's "Nobody Can Tell Us" is chock full of that good ol' brazen spirit that transforms the idiot in all of us into sophisticated boom-boomers. Lyle's instinctive guitar work through the album is a case study in a new guitar movement I would like to coin as, "The Awful," and adoringly so since every faux pas lends some malevolent charm, a la The Mummies of yore. It's a little bit of country, a Gino Washington cover (is it mandatory for every friggin' band that records at Jim Diamond's Ghetto Recorders to cover a Gino Washington song?! What's up with the Detroit Power bullshit?), a little bit of school yard garage punkin' as well as a dash of the dirty boy blues. What more could you want? This album has been produced by the only man closer to God than God himself, Jack Oblivian, who can turn my knobs anytime.
–nam (Sympathy for the Record Industry)