It's as obvious as a two-dollar wig on a bald man that Stardumb Records, based in the Netherlands, has quickly risen to the top of the pop punk big rock candy mountain, European division, with a series of albums from the likes of Backwood Creatures, The Apers, Sonic Dolls, and The Groovie Ghoulies which are positively rippling with axe-laced ear candy, heady harmonies, and crunchy, spirited production - no small feat considering none of these merry marketing-age kids with guitars, bass, drums and a dream are likely to carve out a big old hunk of the MTV pie for themselves.
While self-absorbed, downward spiralling, publicity hounds like Sting, Chrissie Hynde (who used to be great until oh, about the third or fourth Pretenders album), Bjork, Don Henley, and that guy from The Beastie Boys worry about trying to prevent someone from eating a burger or a chicken wing, or saving the world (and let’s face it – it’s beyond saving), Rotterdam's Apers prefer to simply plug in, turn up, and bash out tightly-coiled, hook-laden shards of pop punk (punk pop?) genius - politics, petroleum wars, and the plight of the poor be damned.
The Apers are dazzlingly accomplished at what they do, raising the bar set earlier last year by labelmates Backwoods Creatures, whose percolating, candy-coated gem "Living Legends" seemingly came out of nowhere (no offense to The Netherlands). The Apers three-chord crusade on "The Buzz Electric" is relentless from start to finish and while most pop albums have peaks and valleys, this one's all red meat, Kevin Aper spitting out a series of pithy, brilliant truths about poseurs ("Here To Stay"), keeping your head up and believing in yourself ("Almost Summer" and "Play The Leading Part," respectively), emo ("Too Many Backpacks At The Show"), and girls (everything else).
Instrumentally, these guys are a rhythmic machine, their sound harkening back to an era of pre-marketing age innocence, the chugging, shit-hot twin guitars of Marien Nicotine and teen-dream-in-the-making Jerry Hormone blending perfectly with the musclebound wallop of Ivo Backbreaker's (luv them names...) drumming. Production-wise, the band, in cahoots with Hans Pieters, manage to mix in thick wads of goo (including "whoa-oh's," the hallmark of any great pop punk song) without sanding down too much of the album's coat of gritty grime and at the end of the day, what more can you ask for?
Apparently, pop punk like The Apers and the rest of the bands in Stardumb's stable sells like gangbusters across Europe, but conventional wisdom probably dictates that The Apers' perky campfire songs will fall on deaf, dimwit ears over here in the land of milk and honey. It may be a stretch to use the word "masterpiece" to describe a bunch of what are, in the grand scheme of things, ultimately inconsequential pop songs, but it's entirely appropriate when they're delivered with the gusto and endearment of The Apers.
While self-absorbed, downward spiralling, publicity hounds like Sting, Chrissie Hynde (who used to be great until oh, about the third or fourth Pretenders album), Bjork, Don Henley, and that guy from The Beastie Boys worry about trying to prevent someone from eating a burger or a chicken wing, or saving the world (and let’s face it – it’s beyond saving), Rotterdam's Apers prefer to simply plug in, turn up, and bash out tightly-coiled, hook-laden shards of pop punk (punk pop?) genius - politics, petroleum wars, and the plight of the poor be damned.
The Apers are dazzlingly accomplished at what they do, raising the bar set earlier last year by labelmates Backwoods Creatures, whose percolating, candy-coated gem "Living Legends" seemingly came out of nowhere (no offense to The Netherlands). The Apers three-chord crusade on "The Buzz Electric" is relentless from start to finish and while most pop albums have peaks and valleys, this one's all red meat, Kevin Aper spitting out a series of pithy, brilliant truths about poseurs ("Here To Stay"), keeping your head up and believing in yourself ("Almost Summer" and "Play The Leading Part," respectively), emo ("Too Many Backpacks At The Show"), and girls (everything else).
Instrumentally, these guys are a rhythmic machine, their sound harkening back to an era of pre-marketing age innocence, the chugging, shit-hot twin guitars of Marien Nicotine and teen-dream-in-the-making Jerry Hormone blending perfectly with the musclebound wallop of Ivo Backbreaker's (luv them names...) drumming. Production-wise, the band, in cahoots with Hans Pieters, manage to mix in thick wads of goo (including "whoa-oh's," the hallmark of any great pop punk song) without sanding down too much of the album's coat of gritty grime and at the end of the day, what more can you ask for?
Apparently, pop punk like The Apers and the rest of the bands in Stardumb's stable sells like gangbusters across Europe, but conventional wisdom probably dictates that The Apers' perky campfire songs will fall on deaf, dimwit ears over here in the land of milk and honey. It may be a stretch to use the word "masterpiece" to describe a bunch of what are, in the grand scheme of things, ultimately inconsequential pop songs, but it's entirely appropriate when they're delivered with the gusto and endearment of The Apers.
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