The name Long Fin Killie evokes the image of a Jamaican pirate or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles villian with a Herculean, humanoid shark body, dreadlocks, buzzsaw dorsal attack fin, and a rotary machine gun for a forearm. However, Long Fin Killie is in fact a beguiling British band muddled with elements of medieval imagery, technical showmanship, prog- rock pretentions, high- school poetics, punk tempos, matte production, and banal songwriting. To their credit, Long Fin Killie possess a hearty booty of playing skills. Ponytailed guitar shop employees, H.O.R.D.E. Tour types, and guitar teachers will marvel at the manic axe attack, complete with stuttering riffs, lightning picking, and tempo changes, which oddly brings to mind a Fugazi meets King Crimson meets Phish kind of fusion. But it's mostly self- indulgent wanking that hordes most of the attention, as the drums are thinly smeared across the background with a gossamer of bass. The thrown in banjos, horns, dulcimer, glockenspiel, and wood percussion add nothing to the music other than proof that either the boys had parents that made them take music lessons or that they majored in Music History and Theory at the community college.

Firmly entrenched into their own world, Long Fin Killie have sculpted a well- defined and unique sound for themselves. However, whatever potential intensity and emotion the music possesses is evaporated by commercial- jingle- level sound engineering. With less production, they could rock. But all the power and noise is concealed behind closed doors and muted walls. Couple that with the downright nerdy lyrics and relentless uniformity and it all just gets frustrating. Long Fin Killie are music geeks for music geeks. The sonic equivalent of Babylon Five and Dungeons and Dragons. They're what Rush would have sounded like in the 16th Century.

Long Fin Killie could play Renaissance Festivals. Long Fin Killie might wear sandals. If either of the above two traits apply to your life, check them out.

-Brent DiCrescenzo