Someone call social services, quick: these four young fellows have clearly been locked away in a darkened room for months with nothing but the first few Pixies albums for company.
That might have been a fruitful course of action when Kurt Cobain pursued the strategy a couple of decades ago, but it now comes across as unimaginative, and rather needy when applied to the singer Johnny Lloyd's wistful inbetweener reminiscences of fumbled romance and aimlessly anthemic pleas for decisive direction, as per "When My Day Comes". Until then, it seems, the blend of astringent guitars, dissonant harmonies and soft/loud dynamic familiar from Surfer Rosa and Doolittle will apparently suffice. Though guys, please note: the loud bit doesn't always have to be the chorus.
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