Here’s a real conundrum: it’s unbridled, balls-to-the-wall rage music for frat boys…but it’s performed by a guy who’d get hustled out the back door of every respectable fraternity during rush. No matter, I’d rather hang out with this guy than half of the soulless drones populating the bulk of American Greek Life (and as a former fraternity man myself, I speak with some authority on this observation!) The cynical side of me fears this was focus-grouped into existence, but the more hopeful side of me likes to think he believes every word he says….
Album Review: Andrew W.K., I Get Wet