Review
In fewer than 25 minutes, Sleeping in the Aviary's Oh, This Old Thing? establishes the band as a viable contender for the Next Big Indie Thing. The Madison, Wisconsin trio's Science of Sound debut is flat out exciting like riding the Gravitron at the carnival (minus the subsequent urge to vomit). The sound is at times reminiscent of bands like The Libertines and The Vines, filled with driving rock 'n' roll but also offering moments of delightful pop melodies ("Gloworm") or Art Brut-style calamity ("Maureen"). The one-two punch of openers "Face Lift Floats" and "Pop Song" is brilliant. The former perfectly launches the album's raucous lo-fi pop-punk pulse, and then with hardly a breath the latter kicks in, complete with hand claps, do-dos, yeahs, etc. "Another Girl" follows, still maintaining the velocity while toning down the pop, only to be re-initiated with "Gloworm," which winds down to nicely segue into the first ballad, "Sign My Cast" a magnificently strong song where singer/guitarist/main songwriter Elliott Kozel's gut-wrenching delivery of the lyrics, "Is it safe to touch your broken arm" make you sorta almost start to choke up a little. But then comes "Maureen," one of two songs penned by bassist, in which the only lyrics, "Maureen doesn't like me anymore!" are repeated eight times in a fast-moving high-pitched wail. "Drug Suitcase" is great fun, with a chorus of "Oh, your body's nice but your mind is a joke" that gets stuck in your head (I mean, who can't relate?). By this point, Elliott has fully sold you on his mastery of the punk vocalist technique. Next comes "No Socks," the second track penned by Phil, the raucous "Only Son," and the poppy "Lanugo," which would serve well as a lead single thanks to its terrific versatility as much as it is pop (with bops and ba-da-da-das), it also continues the lo-fi rock vibe. "Love Song" follows in another instance of perfect song pairing; the equal-parts pop-punk/lo-fi-rock/emo ballad is one of the album's --Three Imaginary Girls
Review
Hailing from the City of Madison in the great state of Wisconsin, Sleeping in the Aviary whips up stomping, stuttering indie rhythms and attitudinal garage pop over the course of 23 minutes and 13 songs. There s not much here that you haven t already heard done by plenty of other bands on the dive circuit but rarely have you heard it done with so much promise or unapologetic authority. There are clues to the band s depth and intelligence amid all the raw power Sign My Cast owes as much to Nick Cave as it does the mellowed-down Violent Femmes; Lanugo could be an outtake from the second Strokes album thought violent, affably arrogant punk reigns supreme, especially in the Replacements-esque Only Son and No Socks. This band has more to offer than perhaps even it realizes and should it stay in the game long enough to make one more record and another after that we may all be in for a wild, fun and occasionally heartfelt ride. Jedd Beaudoin, Wichita City Paper --Wichita City Paper