Remember when Bob Pollard was so drunk that anything he did was considered lo-fi? Then he went and got earwhigs, better liquor, fell upon his English degree, and was just pretty good rather than great? The bloated Dayton Elvis, if you will. Well, Honey Radar will take you back to the fit and trim Bob, the one packing away the beer and able to still be an adequate poet that got to the heart of the matter on four dusty inputs. Mary Plum Musket is that brief remembrance but so much more, as Philly’s Honey Radar also dabble in destruction—not of legacy but of sound. “Roughing up the Painter” and “Mason Neck” are lazily sung explosions of pop brilliance before the tape devolves into rudimentary jams that deconstruct the very premise MPM first presented. Yet it’s all catchy and fun and drunk, like days of yore spent playing horseshoes in a hilly backyard without a proper pit or starting fights at bars with frat guys just to see what would happen; before you realized those 5 years better be put to good use and debt collectors came calling about student debt. This is what it paid for and this is what it’ll get you. Professor Pollard knew it was nigh but it has yet to poison Honey Radar.
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