Call me Ishmael. RTFM has been my great white whale of reviews for the past two months, and right now I am going to spear it, Pequod be damned!

Yeah. It starts with a dense, pounding track, wall-of-noise slamming my eardrums. After that, it settles in nicely to post-modern-punge (as we like to call it). That is, a form of pop+grunge with the warp-fuzzed guitars, but instead of the tortured vocals of a Vedder wanna-be, we get poppy vocal hooks with entirely too much happy to be considered grunge. Thus, "punge".

No "I want my drugs" here, kids. Instead, there's grittingly cheerful lyrics, hopalong verses and harmonious choruses, all with a heaping teaspoon of irony. All above the march of chunk-guitars. Hey there! Keep that pleasantness concealed in the presence of Rock! The Pungers are coming! Moby Dick!

-James P. Wisdom