Ever wish that the Cranberries had more bite and substance, that the Sundays were less glossy, that 10,000 Maniacs were less rootsy and vocal dependent, and that one of them would acquire more chops in the rhythm section? If you had, and if you can excuse the apparent male critic B.S. that all bands with a female singer must be compared to the above, the second LP by this Champaign, IL, foursome would fill the bill nicely. The songwriting is generally genuinely strong, Henry Frayne's guitar playing is enveloping, snug, and ...
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Ever wish that the Cranberries had more bite and substance, that the Sundays were less glossy, that 10,000 Maniacs were less rootsy and vocal dependent, and that one of them would acquire more chops in the rhythm section? If you had, and if you can excuse the apparent male critic B.S. that all bands with a female singer must be compared to the above, the second LP by this Champaign, IL, foursome would fill the bill nicely. The songwriting is generally genuinely strong, Henry Frayne's guitar playing is enveloping, snug, and intelligently (and deftly) developed, with just the right shimmer without being the least bit wimpy, and Lynn Canfield's soulful vocals are sweetly concerned without being melodramatic. The favorite is probably the waltz-time "Crybaby," where Frayne's guitar tickles with a smidgen of regret, and drummer Brendan Gamble's tom fills and cymbal hits are tight, tasteful, and titillating all at once. A drummer with power and a delicate touch is a pleasure. Add in the pretty sleeve work and you've got a winner. This band is a small notch above its more famous, above-mentioned contemporaries. ~ Jack Rabid, Rovi
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