Some Boots

Critics have been falling over themselves with praise for this trio since they came on the scene in the mid-'90s. The two things that really stand out are Geoff Farina's voice, which will drive you crazy trying to figure out who it reminds you of (it's Robert Smith, by the way, circa Boys Don't Cry), and the long -- sometimes extremely long -- guitar solos, which are rarely anything to get all that excited about. Granted, the wah-wah stuff on "Airport" is lots of fun (and also fully two minutes shorter than the average track length of six minutes and 45 seconds), and on "In Hundred" the band generates a spare, spiky groove that would almost sound like Gang of Four if it were just a little bit funkier. But most of this stuff just sounds too long and the method of using automatic writing as a method of lyric generation seems unconvincing (sample lines: "The nucleus of stress chooses dust in the end," "Gone is gone from Diskovery piles," "Salt stains saturate feet for the reason you are walking where you are walking to"). Maybe if there were a couple of good hooks on this album that sin could be forgiven.