I’m no math guy, but I think that the band, The Church Of The Saturday Morning Saints (reviewed elsewhere in this issue) features members of both these bands, since the dude’s voice in the Sainte Catherines is so distinctive: swallowing nails while blowing smoke rings through a rough cloth. The Sainte Catherines also have that secret button that other bands can’t seem to find: they can go from mellow, interesting acoustic-laced ballads into full-throttle, break-the-sky-with-guitars riffs anthems without compromising the heart of the first or the power of the second. Big stuff. Whiskey Sunday: This is all just a guess, but I hear a distant metal past meets the same approach as Altaira, which means they’re earnest, love early Hot Water Music, and take time to let their songs breath between the words to let the notes soak—like beer and fine pharmaceuticals—into the listener’s bloodstream. It feels very “brotherhood of the musical notes” and steers far from “dude, bro. Light beer. Bangin’ chicks! Woo!” Strong split.