Snuggle: Mid ‘90s East Bay pop punk has moved north to Seattle. Forlorn sentiments {i.e. “no I can’t fall in love no more”} bouncily played. I imagine a rickety, elaborate gin still of music: Plaid Retina, Isocracy, and Sludegworth heated over the flames of bad luck, stored in a paint barrel of bad timing, and eventually dripping into a glass, as potent as it is raw. They’re definitely getting better. Whiskey Sunday: Are you familiar with Leatherface’s Frankie Stubbs’ raspy voice? Well, if someone hammered a nail through his vocal chords, that’s what the lead singer of Whiskey Sunday sounds like. Sometimes, when the band’s not crankin’ nor anthemic, the whole affair gets a little too bar rock-y (their second song on here). However, when they’re all wadding up and firing off their early Hot Water Music riffs and the songs are latticed up a wee more complexly, like in “Sunday Morning,” I like ‘em quiet a bit more.
–todd (Vinehell)