Modern Baseball's an emo band, I'm told, and you hear shades of that in those little details, that plainspoken vulnerability, that wistful romanticism. But, at least here, the band's grown up into something with a little bit of wear on its tires, sounding more Mountain Goats and Okkervile River than My Chemical Romance, with some pretty legit guitar crunch to back it up.
And sure, its too much goddamn fun, your calf-jittering toetaps sending your brain morse code that you're listening to something too enjoyable to take seriously. But I don't know man, how do you hear Mass and not just want to take off in a car on the longest highway you can find until the sunset consumes you. Maybe it had the hometown inside track on my Boston-trapped heart, but damn if it didn't get me all skyward 4/5
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