The Kiss Offs' bandname perfectly matches their sound. But for the sake of a device by which I can more easily describe them, here are other possible bandnames that the Kiss Offs could use if they were to inexplicably change their name, for better or worse: the Immature Texan Indie Kids, the Rock Slaves, the Prolonged Adolescents, the Rockin' Rebels, the Fuck Yous, the Fuck Offs, the Angry Texan Garage Rock Indie Kids, the Piss Offs, and last but not least, the Massive Idiots.

Based on the context, it's probably easy to figure out why most of those apply. Clearly, they're immature indie garage rockers from Austin, Texas. As for "The Prolonged Adolescents," it happens to be a little play on words on the song "Prolonged Adolescence," which can be found on the Kiss Offs' second record, Rock Bottom. Oh, and "The Massive Idiots"? Well, they're sort of... massive idiots. They do really stupid, dangerous things, and blame it on the rock-- the rock that simultaneously keeps them alive and nearly kills them.

No, I don't mean that sweet, sweet crack rock; I mean the goddamn rock 'n' roll!! Yes, the other kind of rock that causes you to set yourself on fire, accumulate warrants for arrests in three states, and end up on "Real TV" after inciting drunken riots that cause entire crowds to destroy concert venues. Apparently, the Kiss Offs are ashamed of this behavior, but they simply couldn't help it! And who of us could blame them for inviting that rock 'n' roll devil into their lives, leading them to a life of sin and danger? Well, I could, for one. What they call "rock 'n' roll," someone else might refer to as "long-term alcoholism."

Their behavior, combined with their middle-school, textbook indie rock posturing lets you imagine them as rebellious 16 year-olds making their first attempts at rocking out in the garage. Of course, they're all adults, and apparently, educated ones. But to my ears, they'll always be a high school band, getting drunk on Miller while chilling to a Modern Lovers record before tearing up the local park. Yet, there's an element there that sounds nice-- a certain innocence (if you can call it that) emanating from many of the tracks on Rock Bottom. And it stems from this image of them I'll never be able to shake.

Of the eight tracks here, only a couple fall flat on their faces. "Love You Hardcore," one of the three songs to open with a guitar feedback fade-in, features speak/sing lyrics. Unless you're Lou Reed, or have an honest-to-god melody backing you up, this is a hard style to pull off. It features the seemingly contradictory lines, "You're the maze and I'm the minotaur," and, "'Cause you never, ever, ever, ever fail to treat me right," uttered within seconds of each other. And the closing four-part epic, "Pleather Pantz," rambles on for eight minutes with the same sound that barely sustained them for half that length in some of the preceding songs, adding a "quiet build" that reminds us why they seem to prefer to rock.

When the group achieves success, it's due to their cheeky energy and their shameless ability to pull a riff from the past and play it with verve and vigor that approaches its source material. The VU-inspired "Let Me Find the Good in You" serves as an appropriately driving two-chord opener. "Mmm Mmm Mmm" (not the Crash Test Dummies song) doesn't fail to remind one of the boyish sentimentality of Hanson-- or girlish, since their female keyboardist takes a solo vocal turn here-- while turning effective Martsch-esque beginner indie tricks on dueling guitars. On "Broken Fingers for Talented Singers," they declare, "No matter where you got it, you can make it yours," then proceed to rip a riff straight from the Fall and sing about it as "the building bricks (Brix) of a marquee (Mark E.) career." So it turns out they're smart-asses, too.

But alas, the Kiss Offs can't quite pull off a cohesive studio record, even for only 31 minutes. Maybe their strength is in their live show, but the chances of being seriously injured are too high for this reviewer. Besides, with all the immature cheekiness and daring, show-offy angst inside these "prolonged adolescents," they don't deserve to get off scot-free. In fact, I felt personally insulted when they ordered their listeners, in the opening track, to "come on, put the Pitchfork down." Damn you, Kiss Offs! The rock made you say that, didn't it? Sure, it did.

-Spencer Owen