Breathless, dark-bagged eyes insomnia music focused on the smallpox blanket of contemporary popular American culture. Lots-of-fast-words, politically-tinged pop punk. Goocher has the feeling of standing ten feet away from a roaring-by train. At first listen, it was hard to separate the individual cars rushing by. They’re along the line of a smarter, crustier, class-conscious, less “street,” more “dumpster and feminism” Rancid? So sorta like Fifteen? A speeded-up Rivethead—so, like 45 to a 78? Somewhere in that Bermuda triangle of possibilities. What I’m rubbing my head over is how blurry it is, like how so many of the songs don’t breathe. So when the breakdowns and semi-pauses—the semicolons instead of !, !, !’s all the time—like in “Younger Kids” and the intro to “Stealers Keepers” really stood out. Comes with a full-sized newspaper zine lyric sheet and one of the longest thank you lists I’ve seen in a long time. –Todd, Razorcake
