Get ready for some uncomfortable oversharing, set to the tune of early grunge, with an occasional jazz or doo-wop idiom thrown in… it’s a bit of uneasy listening but it gets its hooks into you.
It’s hard to pin down this Brooklyn trio, with their angular guitar dissonance and harmonies that range from drone to treacle. This live album showcases the band’s strange energy with a barrage of short songs and very little audience reaction.
If you love Neil Young as much as Scott McCaughey does, you’ll be able to grin at yourself on recognizing each and every one of these deep, deep cuts, delivered in McCaughey’s enthusiastic yelp rather than Young’s grizzled whine.
This beguiling set of intricate songs could have come out of a Tin Pan Alley songbook, so calling them old-fashioned is somewhat incomplete. And like all the best fluffy shiny pop led by a heavenly female voice, it hides many razor-sharp barbs.