This young band from Australia have obviously been living a lean life, sustaining themselves on thin slices of '60s pop. Throughout this roughshod record, one can hear the round guitar tones of the Byrds, the "ba-ba-ba" backing vocals cribbed from Brian Wilson's playbook, and the Association's safe-for-Grandma melodies. The charm of this album, though, comes in the delivery, which takes its cues from the early '90s DIY/cuddlecore world of K Records. The band's serviceable drummer, Neil Erenstrom, is noticeably low in the mix on every song, their four-part harmonies have an uneasiness that straddles the line between adorable and unbearable, and the orchestral arrangements are all performed on shoddy synthesizers. These may sound like criticisms, but it is the ramshackle, almost sloppy feel of the album that is its most endearing quality. If it were even a touch more polished, the cracks in the band’s façade would start to show through and the results would no doubt be devastating.
~ Bob Ham
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