Public Strain is a war, fleshed out over 11 dissonant tracks that strike first, either
waiting for a counter-attack with a "bring it on" or standing over you victorious over your
It holds no punches, each abrasive note slices like shark teeth
some great imagery here.
It's an indie album made by people who most likely hate indie, the evil step child of the
vague genre, shunned and feared, but all the more powerful for it.
It's a somewhat warm opening statement, a winter day that dissolves into a blizzard as "Heat
Distraction" jangles along, hopeless.
*hopelessly?... and remove the comma?
"Drag Open" shears and grates through its awesome first half
you should probably refrain from using 'awesome' as a descriptor.
I wonder if this album is the reason Women decided to break up, like this was their final
statement, meaning nothing, only to fade away into the shadows. It gives Public Strain a sense of
mystique, a glimpse into what music could be, if people just cared less.
It's, like, there's a lot of like, commas, in this, paragraph.