Suburban-friendly white-boy-fronted indie pop groups seemingly sprouted from state colleges usually suck ass. They tend to create soft-spoken ditties reminiscent of worlds (their worlds) where pain doesn't exist and only keggers and comradeship are part of the day's agenda. Essentially, they sound like the biggest fucking pussies ever: We're talking Guster, G Love & Special Sauce, and anyone with a sideways cap who ever picked up a guitar and got a handjob from playing "Crash" to a totally trashed high school junior. So sensitive. So. Sensitive.
However, this, friends, is deliriously good indie pop. But, like Pringles, it's only good in moderation. Listening to too much of this stuff can turn you into a retard, and since you're already reading my blog, you're ALREADY a retard, so I don't suggest you listen to it EVER for fear of being the biggest retard ever.