The City Drive

This record is entirely reminiscent of shopping at the mall. It’s sterile, everything looks (or sounds) the same the longer you listen to it, and if you hang around for too long, the high-pitched whine and complete banality and lack of originality begin to make you go cross-eyed. Yes, this is receiving the brunt of the attack for the countless bands out there that have tried this path before, some making it, some not, but regardless, it all sounded pretty much the same. Formula? Simple riffs, a singer with a voice that’s passable but not great, a bounce in their un-lived steps, and a depth that covers only teenage relationships and cotton candy-coated sugary sensibilities. And we all know what that gets us; a sugar high that soon comes crashing down to a depressing lull and headache that only results in you giving up on the mall, the music, and needing to once again discover one of those bands that will slowly begin to rekindle that fire for life and restore your faith in music and creativity. This is not that band. This is the mall.