The Music is a fitting title for this album, because that’s the only thing driving this band. They’re not in it for a spot on the Warped Tour or a hair gel endorsement contract or anything else. It’s all about the music, and you can hear that love dripping from every chord that they wring out of their instruments. So many bands have done this wrong. So many bands sound like they’re reading from Cliff’s Notes of Classic British Punk without anything resembling conviction or originality. There’s literally not enough room in Razorcake to name all of them, and quite frankly, none of them are worth the teeny-tiny space that their names would take up. Listening to Smalltown makes me realize just how wide the gap is. Last issue, Todd said something to the effect of “listen to Smalltown instead of the new Stiff Little Fingers,” but I think you could probably listen to this instead of old Stiff Little Fingers. Their heads and hearts are in the right place, and lest I forget to mention: they can fucking play. Tracking down every song this band has ever recorded is well worth the import prices that you’ll probably have to pay. –josh (Deranged/Snuffy Smile)