I miss the days when car bodies had sharp angles, when action movies had plots, when you could see from one end of the mall to the other, when Gatorade came in four flavors, when Alf was just twinkle in a smack- addicted screenwriter's eye. I miss the days when punk show promoters had to worry about evading the law and tacking up fliers, not how to incorporate the half- pipe and the faux- snow slope into the concert grounds. I miss those pre- Photoshop days of scissors and glue. I'm realistic. I know I can never truly go back to those days (until I finish building my timesuit). To be honest, I was singing the "Thundercats" theme song back in those days, not the Minutemen. I guess nostalgia hits hardest post- graduation-- each time I hear the Offspring on the radio, nostalgia smacks these temples like iron cymbals.

Franklin revive the early days of Dischord, when bands like Grey Matter and 3 kept the tattered punk flag flying with intelligence and melody. Franklin's dub wobbles through a gauze of '80s production values. You'll hear no digital separation or quantum tracking. The drums don't burst headphone membranes. The bass won't loosen stool. It's a refreshing change of pace from the Albini- and- Weston school. A little cassette hiss and intriguing subtlety begs for full volume. And although it may not be the wisest source of inspiration, Franklin seemingly prefer the Clash's Sandinista over London Calling.

Any band that brings 311 to mind, ever, should be exiled to Wichita. Yet despite the riff of "Major Taylor" sounding frighteningly Nick Hex-ish, Franklin escape relatively unscathed from the realm of guitar heavy Jamaica jams. Instead, little flourishes sparkle from the grooves, such as the echoing solo on the snappy opening, "They Attack," the bongos on "DJ Goes Dead," and the end- of- song spaceouts on "Drums of Navarone" and "Noah the Shocker." The mellow "Blue All Over" is both ass- infectious and beautiful. Unfortunately, vocalists Brian Sokel and Ralph Darden sometimes sound like they're trying to get a SweetTart out of their nostrils, and the direct pop songs seem naggingly familiar. For example, the woo-oo-oohs on "Inventor Of Loud" came straight from Urge Overkill (who should be left well alone with their medallions and hair balm).

Franklin click best when they noodle away at layered jams, which can be a bit disconcerting for a punk band. And I might be ostracized from indie circles for saying so, but I'd love to hear the songs mixed and funk- injected by someone like Lionrock. Smash the hooks! Smash the pop songs! Smash the Beach Boys! Punk has always been about doing what the masses cannot. At this point, soul is as punk as it gets. Franklin know the truth, and they're just about there.

-Brent DiCrescenzo