There’s a difference between forms and formulas. Tulsa oozes the tradition of East Bay pop punk: handwritten lyric sheets, songs about cheap alcohol, love’s trapdoors, friends dying too soon, all slid in great silk screened cover (along with a CD), all conceptually held together with duct tape. You know; the current hallmarks to a tried and true DIY punk release. And you know what? It still rules after you kinda know what you’re gonna get. Give me songs about failure and still willing to bite back. Give me Shotwell, the almost-breathlessness of This Is My Fist, the worn-rug pop charm of The Bananas, that huddling up in a weird poncho of the Abi Yo Yos. Sour Digs feels like a family affair; a nationwide family of bands, a family you’re invited to join, just by listening along to this record. Shit like this just makes me smile.
–todd (Starcleaner, www.starcleaner.com)