A band of 17 and 18 year old kids who moved to the states from England to make it big, that’s novel. Other than the story, there not much new here, although the fellas themselves put some energy into their power punk, Green Day meets the Kinks. Those face forward vocals are hard to pull off, you can never be as hard as Henry Rollins, or as earnest as The Buzzcocks were, or as political as the Clash, and you could only dream of being as hard as Chuck D was. The supporting cast provides a steady diet of jagged edges and sonic washes, for singer Clive Powell to tell about the wisdom he’s aquired in the last few years. The cutesy CD jacket, with it’s implication that they are some kind of lost waifs, with only their toothbrush and teddy bears to give them comfort, smacks of another Backstreet Boys conspiracy. Rhymes with wet blanket. They’re actually not that bad, on a scale of 1 to ten they still shutout Hanson.?