Everything about the packaging of this CD screamed “SUCK” at me when I pulled it off the top of the review pile—from the intentionally childish robot astronaut drawing on the cover to the cheese dick font in which the songs are listed on the back of the jewel case. The only thing that caused me to hold out a shred of hope for the music contained therein was the fact that the album is put out by Furious George Recordings. How foolish of me. My suspicions were confirmed when I popped the disc in the player. Worthless indie pap, err, pop that treads the same water that far superior bands did ten to fifteen years ago. The singer is obviously an Elliot Smith disciple and there’s a strong Quasi influence in his singing, too. This is so goddamned sensitive it makes me want to club a puppy to death or run over a baby seal with my car. And Meet Me In Montauk show such restraint—they wait all the way until track five to bust out the oh-so-ironic cowbell section. This is what happens when private school douchebags decide they want to rebel and show how “edgy” there really are. Absolutely painful to listen to.
–benke (Furious George Recordings, no address listed)