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Straight-up melodic punk from this Hollywood foursome, cut from the same
cloth as Bouncing Souls and Screeching Weasel. Had this disc come out five
years ago, critics would be falling over themselves to call them the second
coming of punk. As it stands, you can’t throw a rock in a record store
without hitting a few bands like this—the thing that separates them from the
rest of the motley pack is energy and intent, which Sidekick has to spare.
No pretensions here other than to deliver ten solid tunes, brimming with
voltage, a crummy self-image and an insatiable jones to play and be heard.
Jaded punks soured on the current batch of nimrods with guitars and own
clothing labels should check in here for a refresher course, or visit their
web site for the full dope.
—Paul Gaita ________________________________________________________________________________ |