The Takeover Records triple-split: a threesome of rock and roll �that I won�t forget� (to quote the first band in this triple threat...Near Miss). A little known fact about Near Miss is that Ashton Kutcher himself obviously produced these new tracks...because I can not remember the last time I got punk�d like this. The tracks begin with the classic �punk� drums and Bayside-esque harmonies, and, in my most sarcastic tone, I told myself �Oh great, one of these bands!� Then at twenty seconds into the track, I honestly felt like the band somehow heard my sass, irately reached through my computer screen past the blinking instant messages and sucker punched me with a double-dose of learn. After a brief-yet-effective drum fill and the words �A-quest-for-truth� (separated in a classic hardcore fashion), Near Miss showed me who was boss for the next 54 seconds with an intro track that came to rape and pillage. By the end of this short song, they had gained my undying trust and attention, and they continued to deliver two more first-rate power bombs of rock my way. All three tracks are lead by fab vocals that hit me just right and remind me of Boys Night Out�s Connor Lovat meets AFI. My favorite passing moment in their seven minutes of the ideal fight-scene soundtrack is what may or may not be a falsetto in the song �Now rectify� at exactly two minutes and nineteen seconds into the song.
This Oreo has now come to the creamy center; the glue of it all. Without a solid set of songs to lump between already-rocked Near Miss and The soon-to-be-rocking Matches, this album could easily be considered no more than a misfire. Lucky for Takeover Records, Reeve Oliver brought the rock in a picnic basket along with a checkered-blanket and a tent and has no plans of leaving anytime soon. The first song dubbed �summer� has that kind of Lux Courageous energy and vocal power that kept my head bobbing, air drums going and had me wishing that I knew the words so I could start singing along. The guitar �rock riff� that pops up several times in the song kept hold on my attention long enough to get me to two minutes and forty nine seconds when the song really comes together and proves to me what Reeve Oliver is made of. The next song, �I play the sensitive song writer card� has great lyrics and decent music with makes for a pretty hot track. The third and final gift from Reeve Oliver, �we�re all gonna die�, is much like the first: a muffled intro, abrupt increase in volume, very sing-along melodies and catchy guitar parts. Congratulations Reeve. You have graduated Rock U with honors.
I went into this album already loving The Matches and holding high expectations, and the first song (�a girl I know�) really scared me, to be honest. It didn�t have that charm I had come to expect of these princes of punk; however the song still captured their lovably awkward vocals and witty lyrics so I forgave them for not completely rocking me. Two more strikes, boys. With high hopes and my fingers and toes crossed for something earth-shattering, I made it to the second track by The Matches, an acoustic version of their song �sick little suicide�. Eureka! They transformed their darkest and heaviest crowd favorite into a disturbingly eerie track of whispers, acoustics, sliding violins, and all the other ingredients in order to cook up a track worthy to sing the dark prince, Satan, to sleep after a hard day of condemning lost souls and cursing angels. It came time for the last track of the album. This alone is what will leave the aftertaste in my mouth of this entire album. A failed last song at this point would be like vomiting on your new girlfriend�s white blouse right before you drop her off from a magical night of dinner, dancing, and movie. The track hits and I hear the sounds of boys laughing, winding disposable cameras and shattering glass. These uncouth noises do not let down as the acoustic version of their new song, �shoot me in the smile�, begins to rob my mind of everything I thought I knew. Perfect. That�s all this is... heaven sent. The lyrics illustrate how fickle and slutty the music industry really is in the most brilliant and colorful manner possible; all while an unparagoned guitar track plays its awkward yet dynamite chord progression only really on one speaker. To cap it all off, the lead vocals and harmonies are just as unpredictable and killer as ever.
Voil�! You�ve got yourself the unrivaled split of the year.
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J.C. '05 |
