Envision, if you will, intellectually charged, experimental indie rock rapscallions left to their own devices. As per the official press notes, the moniker “Finn Riggins” is a “reference to the shape-shifting working class spirit that roams the Pacific Northwest in search of his body…he’s a soldier, a saint, an ocean explorer, a president, a pacifist, an auto restorer…” This quirky collective of idiosyncratic Idahoans; vocalist/guitarist Lisa Simpson, vocalist/synthesizer whiz Eric Gilbert, and percussionist Cameron Bouiss indeed live up to their ingenious namesake. Every track is a decidedly left turn into a futuristic pop abyss. The ensemble’s punk pedigree emerges in “Glove Compartment,” a sexy/kitschy diatribe worthy of the B-52s in their heyday. “Box Elder,” a pseudo-prog instrumental, evokes thoughts of a word wherein Eno produces Frank Zappa, and vice versa. Jazzy keyboard interludes and frenetic, double-time drum patterns underpin Simpson’s sultry juxtaposition of her dull day job and the resurrection of Jesus Christ in the rambling “Blackrock” - a cut that will surely drive right wing conservatives crazy. Finn Riggins by any other name would still be…Finn Riggins. Fans of They Might Be Giants, Moxy Fruvous and The Residents are advised to check this one out.
--Tom Semioli
