Nasally voice. Pop punk. Miami. This really should be a musical cul-de-sac. “Yep. Seen it. Dead end. This’ll end when someone graduates. Can we go? Beer’s gettin’ warm here.” But it’s not. It’s totally infectious, ageless ragged punk with glistening hooks sticking out all over the place. An awesome breathless quality. Locked and secure with this almost subliminal ‘50s gang swagger. Sloane sounds nothing like these bands I’m going to mention, except for one thing. When they were around, they were taken a little for granted, and after they left, their records became very difficult to find: Sexy. Bent Outta Shape. Carrie Nations. Dead Things. Just throwing it out there. Why Go Out? reeks of that potential. Sleep at the entrance of the cul-de-sac if you want, or act soon on one of the 305 copies of this record. They broke up. People outside of Florida will start crying in five years. Thanks for the heads up, Marty Ploy, Esq. Oh—that’s right—Sloane was Ferris Bueller’s white fringe leather jacket female enabler. 1986 palm bite.

 –todd (Art Of The Underground, / Hang Up, / Dead Broke, / Hip Kid / Steve’s Pizza And Records)