Ben of Bad Veins’ first band was a teen trio. They had one release on CDR. The drummer would chat and hand them out at shows. The singer’s straight Detroit do was just long enough to hide the eyes. He couldn’t bear to talk about his music with the audience of fellow doers. A thin bespectacled pocket monster had arms not quite as long as his maple neck. Their live shows made the standing crowd all nod in time and a few liquidated pump the air guitar along. The Ass Ponys let GJ open for them, is how we got to know them.
Their hit was pop punkish, but the number in this collection captures something like late night rides that take longer to get there than they do going back. The state of making the world glow brighter with childhood makes totality get up off the ground. What is saturated deepens in this trio of river valley music freaks. There uncollared pastors demand that everything be young, it is. The drive to care opens in spite of poverty and automotive traffic. Great cranes flap overhead sending shady breeze against these fuming incandescent scalps. Rain comes only when they want it, whipping into storms at night. Calcium directs itself to outer shelling. There is everything that has ever been held back pointed into another person for the first. Agreement most exciting hits throughout the day, and each has such focus and purpose that one shifts into the Common Era. Every beach is golden and none burns. The tall grasses on the sunny hillside make fine beds for napping. Arms are welcome here amidst lambs and calves, they follow every scent and trace the outline of a hearth when your love is the daughter of Chuck Cleaver.