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This Seattle wunderkind trio's debut full-length arrives like a freaky reward from a cosmos that has watched us persevere through 15 years of tightening jeans, steadily ramping foppism, and the crushingly beige influence of adult-contempo alt-country.
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Repetitive, psyche-battering noise obscures things--most of the songs sound like there was a jackhammer nearby during recording--yet, after a couple of times through, it’s easy enough to discern pop hooks.
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On this, their debut, they’ve shown us they can pull downtrodden bents as good as anyone. But I’m being serious, serious rock band: on your next record I want to hear something more Pope-like.
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There is no pretense in their simple arrangements, but you can hear their motor revving, and you know they'll never run out of gas.