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 THE
RUNS- Wet Sounds (Urban
Cheese Records) I can just picture it: A balding, middle-aged, workin’
slob with an unapologetic beer belly peeking out from underneath his wife
beater, staring at his neighbor’s basement in anger and shouting,
“Shut the fuck up! For
Chris’ sakes, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Bashing
away inside that basement is what sounds- at least from outside - like a
marginally atonal Ramones cover band.
And in this vision, if the enraged neighbor were to bust in and
come roaring down the stairs, he’d find The Runs making a helluva lot of
noise and smiling like eejits. He’d
also find that there are actually some pretty cool guitar parts offsetting
the high school-ish, boom-chick-crash drumming.
And maybe this grouchy fellow would actually be a little charmed by
these drunken ne’er-do-wells. I
know I sort of am. While some
of the material on Wet Sounds
sounds, well, crappy (no vague pun intended), there are also a bunch of
songs that are catchy and have great energy and are really impossible not
to bop along with. And despite
the toilet humor suggested by the band’s name and album title, the
lyrics by and large avoid bodily functions (“Your Butt Begs For
Butter” is a notable exception), and this isn’t necessarily a bad
thing. I think as long as The
Runs give their pissed off neighbor a few cans of Bud and promise to write
a flattering song about him and/or not to date his daughters, he won’t
call the cops. What more can
you ask for? –Ben Hunter
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