This is one of those serious guilty pleasure albums. I know I’m not supposed to like it at my age, but the weird punk-pop about drinking and f’d relationships seems somehow grown up amongst the glorified punk boy bands out there. I could listen to the song “San Francisco” fifty times in a row and never get sick of it. Their first album, I actually thought when I first heard of them that they were named after the Hall of Fame baseball player and were called The Al Kaline Trio.
