Under A Dying Sun
Under A Dying Sun CD - Substandard

What sells? Nudity, that’s what. That word, nudity, is a part of a marketing scheme - a fine one. Here’s to Coors Light, and... and twins! Think of being at this show, I would fall asleep. But not if we had drugs! These indie rock stops - from “one of the hardest working bands in the Bay area,” so they say - are phenomenal, real hot… but can they pull it off in the buff? I’d like to see that. Whiney vocals anyone? No. How about pizza? A resounding yes’m. These good-looking folks (one gal, four guys) sound passionate. Passionate about not wearing shoes, maybe. Sha hah ha. In the first song, I can’t hear the bass. Do you hear any? Nope, none here. Maybe when these folks can thump, we’ll listen. “Breathe In,” they tell us in this jerky tearjerker. Save the dead whales. Smell them, all washed up in the Bay, rotting and stinking. Push those blubbery fuckers back in the water, before the lamp oil people get here, quick. “Breathe In,” they said, remember? Well, I’m not sure if I want to. Maybe I’ll just suffocate rather than hear the rest of this sensitive trip. Here’s to Coors Light, and... and twins! (Suzanne Lindsay Greer)



©2004 Skyscraper Magazine.
All material is the property of Skyscraper Magazine and may not be reprinted, copied, or redistributed without the expressed written consent of the editors.
Site by: Joshua R. Jones