Associating music with a place and time is a pretty common occurrence. This album is strong in that category. This one brings me back to high school and my buddy’s beat up whatever that early-80s Mustang looking shitbox was that wasn’t really a Mustang and his crap-ass tapedeck. Every time I was in his car, this album was on. For all I know, it was actually stuck in there. The good thing is this is a pretty cool album. Filled with an absolutely insane bass performance by the one and only Mike Watt, and an incredible eight-armed stop start drumming clinic that’s part jazz, part math rock, part indie rock swagger. The songs twist and turn, get quiet, get rocking and then get incredibly technical. But somehow amongst this crazy show of musicianship and what amounts to freeform poetry approach to lyricism, they manage to write engaging songs.