Now, I don't like New Found Glory, but I bet these guys do.
Now, I don't like New Found Glory, but I bet these guys do.
Holy shit this sucks. It's not the worst music I've ever heard, they know how to use their instruments, but they lack the pizzazz of such pop artists as Michael Jackson and rock artists as Queen. In one song they even try to do the screaming back up thing, and contrived crap smells really bad. It's not even worth reading a review about this band on a shitty website.
Run of the mill hardcore-influenced pop-punk. The music is tolerable, nothing spectacular at all. I would rather listen to this than jump out of an airplane, I can say that, but I'll probably never listen to this album again. The CD was as predictable as a Friday the 13th sequel. Standard pop-punk songs all the way through, with the second to last track being a soft acoustic track for all the kids to break out their lighters to, and the final track being led into by a piano and then what do you know, here come the power chords for the big arena rock/pop-punk combo ending. If you love all the Drive Thru records stuff and all that, you might enjoy this. They can be just another pop-punk band for you to like, I'd be surprised if they became one of your top bands.
The archival hunt for the "missing links" of first-wave California punk usually leads through a trail of grainy handbill Xeroxes and tape traders' overdubbed copies. But with The Flyboys, the story has always been a bit more elegant—and a lot more colourful. Long before they were swept into the gravity of the Hollywood scene, frontman John Curry was already performing … Read more
Hardcore doesn’t need reinventing; just needs conviction. On Self Evident Truth, Baltimore’s The S.E.T. come out swinging with a debut EP that’s built on exactly that. It’s got groove, urgency, and a clear sense of purpose. Clocking in at around fifteen minutes, the EP wastes no time establishing its identity. From the opening moments of “This Chain,” it’s all forward … Read more
When a band describes themselves as surf punk, it usually conjures a certain image. Reverb drenched guitars, sunburnt melodies, maybe even a sense of looseness that leans more carefree than chaotic. Dashed doesn’t really fit that mold. On their self-titled LP, they take those familiar elements and run them through something colder, sharper, and far less predictable. Across eleven tracks, … Read more
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