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The White Stripes comparisons are impossible to avoid, so I'll get them out of the way early: girl drummer, boy guitar player, garagey sound, furious delivery, wicked distortion, all delivered from a solid rock-historical point of view. But where the White Stripes cast their ramshackle noise with a certain tradition-buttressed dignity, Radio Control takes a head-on, sincere punk tack, sounding legitimately bratty and defiant and noisy and ferocious, willing to let go, damn tomorrow.
Some of the songs overstay themselves a repetition or two, and the whole thing isn't quite as trim as you'd like a punk album to be, but for every meandering track like Radio Control there's the terrifying rush of Riding Bikes or Tavern at the End of the World.
I'll confess a bias: love these guys live, totally dig them as people to the extent that we've talked, cute couple, Somerville locals singing about the town, biases galore. But I dig it, we need more fearless music like this 4.5/5
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