Listen here! Also, go see em at the Great Scott on April 15th!
It's with a certain endearing innocence that Krill's Jonah Furman winds his every frustration in mid-aughts indie-underground-revival crunch and wings it out the door without a thought. One after another, the songs pour out of the band effortlessly, guitars delivering every chiming note with a guileless kiss of dissonance, while Furman yelps ragged and reeling, like a young, scared Alec Ounsworth. Even the surreal vignettes about kissable dog paws and hairy baseballs seem more conjured than composed, and the result is strangely endeading. The tinny production, flat mix, and over repetitive songwriting prevent it from really getting traction as Rock and Roll, but you'll be tempted to love it anyway 3/5
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