“Bald eagle, why are you such a dick?” “Armageddon, come and get it.” “The ‘master plan’ for America never accounted for the plumbing, upkeep, or modesty. It sorta sucks.” I’m paraphrasing, clipping off the poetry, but what I appreciate about the Street Eaters is that they sound like they’re coming up from underneath, from deep caves eyes slowly adjusting to the light, or they’re coming from a planet whose inhabitants are equals to—and have no lofty goals greater than—the cockroach. Or they’re coming from a culture that doesn’t view death as an inglorious end, but part of a cycle. Their music’s not entirely pretty, neither is it entirely ugly. It’s light and dark. Tense and loose. Caustic and flowing. Political and deeply personal. I know dick about recording engineer stuff, but I can almost picture the color of the tones of their two instruments when they play them. I like that. It’s like they’re not only painting a picture, but are graceful enough to explain their technique and what it means to them when they’re holding the brushes. Worth unpacking, putting on their socks, and walking around in them for a little bit. Still not a big fan of Jefferson Airplane/Starship, but their cover’s not a deal breaker.
–todd (Bakery Outlet, bakeryoutletrecords.com / Plan-It-X)