But when it comes to truly sucking, this band is as subtle as it is inspired. Buried within whiney, Moog-smothered songs are hiccups of falsetto cloying enough to make you puke -- the perfect vocal complement to sub-poetic dreck like "You're all the metaphors I can't create to comprehend this curse that I call love." Seriously, a George Thorogood cover band made up of 50-year-old welders has more soul and integrity than Motion City Soundtrack. Commit this disc to memory? It's more likely that you'll be gouging out your frontal lobe with your fingernails in an attempt to forget that you ever heard it.
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