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I Blame You is mean, raw and instrumentally tight, with splashes of surf and punk. Froberg and Habibion’s twangy guitars effectively interweave in highlights 'Fake Kinkade' and 'Pine On.'
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Obits create the same buzz in your brain that was almost certainly present the first time you heard The Hives or The Vines, the feeling which had you so giddy that you perfected excitement wees to rival a puppy (probably). This time, though, it’s not bratty whipper-snappers but a fine veteran taking the lead.
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Alternative PressI Blame You is where they make good on that promise, delivering a record as electrifying as their live show. [May 2009, p.122]
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MojoSo that's Obits: rapid tunes, powerhouse performances, great album. [May 2009, p.104]
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While the first evil licks of the opener 'Widow Of My Dreams' and 'Pine On' take off with a familiar pace, much of I Blame You feels like a natural--and much more varied--downshift.
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So the Obits might just have the stuff to save rock & roll, or at least keep it off life support for a while, but as good as I Blame You may be, they're going to have to get their songwriting chops in order before they can really finish the job.
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More bands should, logically, sound like this. It’s a wonder that no one wrote the song 'Pine On' before now, as incredibly basic and memorable as it is. That said, Obits fall short of Froberg’s Hot Snakes.
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It’s a thoroughly digestible record, then, freed from the downstroke neuroses that basically defined Hot Snakes or the labyrinthine catharsiscore mounted and milked by Jehu.
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The debut album by Obits, is full of such music, garage-punk bursts that sound like the songs are disrobing, showing off their bones.
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It's great that the band can slow down and still hold attention, and one hopes Obits will dig deeper and find new thrills in old traditions in the coming years.
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Most of the songs are well constructed and do not outstay their welcome, though a few do not make the grade.
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So while it may not be the revelation that Hot Snakes was after Drive Like Jehu, Obits still has plenty of life to it, and enough twists in Rick Froberg’s sound to keep things interesting.
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Q MagazineIt's bold and gimmick-free--proof there's no shame in covering old ground. [May 2009, p.116]
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UncutThe result is a record not in step with any particular fashion, but, on songs like 'Talking To The Dog,' you get choppy and catchy with rare raw-knuckle skill. [May 2009, p.92]
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Under The RadarMost of these songs, while energetically played, have a disposable quality that the band's enthusiasm can't overcome. [Spring 2009, p.77]