There’s something about adolescent angst that just freakin’ sells. No matter what the decade, there’s bound to be a young band that preaches the value of finding solace within a frustrating juvenile existence. I’m not saying that Canterbury, England’s Moose Blood can even come close to filling band’s like Blind 182’s legendary punk-pop shoes, but a less saturated market of yearning teenage emotion still exists, and it’s struggling to be fulfilled to the same extent that it once was.
I may not be an temperamental youngster, but hey, good music is good music. Singer Eddy Brewerton leads Moose Blood as an interesting specimen of lyrically clashing styles. His initially soft voice flows lightly like an British accented lobbyist of simple childhood wants. The following rift is interjecting, sudden, yet pleasantly anticipated, as some form of loud release is almost expected given how uncharacteristically soft the intro seems. In all honesty, I think Brewerton’s subsequent yelling voice could use some work. It doesn’t ruin the song, nor does it make it unpleasant, but he’s no Tom DeLonge. Oh, and if you have to ask who Tom DeLonge is, you probably won’t like this song. Just sayin’.