Jan 02, 2002

Man, I can’t fuckin’ believe how uncannily The Methadones aurally resemble Bad Religion before BR sold their souls to the major label big boys. This grandslam CD illustriously possesses all of the frenetic grandeur of Suffer, No Control, Against the Grain, and Generator. The songs are intricately structured, tight, cohesive, and perfectly sculpted – melodious, yet drenched with intelligence, attitude, and disquieting inner rage. The vocalist has Greg Graffin’s indignant monotone down to a tee, precisely enunciating each syllable and spitting it out with obvious disdain for the world around him. The soaring starburst harmonies are thickly layered with abrupt strafings of sky-rocketing guitar leads, bone-shattering rhythm guitar crunch, bazooka-blast fieriness from the bass’s low-end roar, and explosive mortar-shell drum wallops. Gimme another beer. Fuck heroin. I’ve got The Methadones!

 –Roger Moser Jr. (A-F)