No, no, I won’t accept all this contrition. Stupid name, sounds like Jesus and Mary Chain, marketing fodder, or so it seemed. Now my Ray Bans are in place and the sun’s beaming onto my face and the volume is high and I just wanna sit here for 45 minutes and get my fix of BRMC. Big distorted choral guitars pound out riffs with a panache and intensity that the poor Strokes would have to ask their producer to let them try if they wanted to. What’s the point of staring at your shoes if your don’t have a big fuzz box to stomp on. Gritty and only slightly acknowledging any irony, let’s hope their stupid name doesn’t dissuade too many would be bangers.