I mean this in the literal sense. These dudes look one hundred percent gay for each other. And man-on-man time is fine by me. Run it up a pole, have the train chug through a mountain tunnel. I don’t care. It’s just that the packaging—which I’m assuming is an elaborate inside joke—betrays what’s inside. (They’re holding hands in a human chain on a mountain; then they’re all stuffed inside a tea cup ride at Disneyland, cuddled up and laughing.) The music is what the Beach Boys would have sounded like if they started up in the 2000s and their debut was Pet Sounds… and I don’t mention that lightly. There are true bits of genius in this record; they’re not afraid to steer into strange pop areas and come out smelling good. They nail the yellow sunshine-on-top / weird, cracked, pus-green corrupt underbelly of Anaheim (and suburbias in general) effortlessly. (Also for fans of early Redd Kross and the lighter side of The Muffs.) The music’s pretty great… but the packaging… oh, the packaging.
–todd (Teenacide / Recess)