Can you bottle exuberance? Just sheer joy? Can it be dabbed behind your ear like a perfume? It sure as hell can be captured on vinyl and The Measure’s got its number: über-earnest, let’s-get-this-shit-right, dual vocals DIY punk that’s disregarding paint-by-numberisms. And it makes me giddy—actually smiling when hearing these songs come on—that bands, in this relative dearth left in the wake of mid-‘90s pop punk aren’t only jumping into retreads of fun, but are taking the exposed wires of the best of that decade and plugging them directly into their instruments, hearts, and minds, while pedaling down new avenues into the 2000s. Like a supercharged Discount? Like watching otters magically frolic and play instruments? Like the best basement show, glasses fogged, windows steamed? Contagious? Yes, yes, and yes.
–todd (Idiot Box Industries, c/o The Measure, [email protected])