RADIO FACES, THE: Party at the Bushwick Hotel: LP

Occasionally clever and catchy, but not essential as the bands from which they came, listening to The Radio Faces is an inconsistent affair. It alternates between “this is really great” from “get on with it,” from second to second. It’s sorta like wrestling a bear with a live fish in your back pocket. If all you had to do was wrestle the bear without distraction, you could single focus on that bear. (And probably get your ass handed to you, even if it was a cub, but you could get some licks in before the bear mauled you.) Yet with that fish in your back pocket, distracting you with a paroxysm of wiggles against a part of your body that isn’t used to such wigglin’, how in the fuck can you grapple with that bear undistractedly? You’d be lucky to get in any karate moves before dying. With The Radio Faces, replace the bear with classic rock’n’roll fronted by singer songwriterly men like Bruce Springsteen, Chuck Berry, and Tom Petty. Replace the fish with an ADD approach to music, where song-to-song (even within songs) seems to be flapping around too much for a cohesive album. But you don’t have to believe me or follow far-fetched analogies. If you’re fans of Nate (Modern Machines), Jamie (Bent Outta Shape), Mikey (Ergs!), and Skip (Ringers, I believe), and feel like giving The Radio Faces, give it a go. I won’t stop you.  –todd (Art Of The Underground)