These guys have the power pop genome down to a science, from the upbeat riffing to the adolescent lyrics. They do it really, really well, but it’s about as wooden and soulless as you would expect from something coming out of Brooklyn’s gentrified hipster haven, Williamsburg. “Now, now. Not everyone in Williamsburg is a trust fund hipster douchebag,” you say. Yeah, and I might be making a reach here, but if they aren’t, they probably work three jobs to make rent. If they had the time to be in a band, they’d probably be pretty fucking pissed off and have a lot of nasty shit to say about a bunch of candy-asses singing wimpy songs about girls. But I may be wrong. So check out Vice magazine’s review of this record for another opinion. Really... there is one... they like it. –Craven (Oops Baby)