My name is Carlton. My diet consists only of tea, music and the internet. Enjoy your stay and mind the fish.
Go home and be a family man, Kobe.

Well, what do we have here? Another 15 minute whirlwind of angst and confusion? Not quite. The Vapo-Rats, a staple band of the New Orleans hardcore scene, manage to drag out our attention spans an extra 5 minutes on their new album, Mischief. I would actually be tempted to call Mischief’s bonus time unnecessary if it wasn’t for the mating of introspection with their classic, youthful punk dissonance. Whether they realize it or not, the Vapos are getting older and they’re starting to see their peers in a new light. They harangue their sloshed groupies in “Teenage Alcoholics” just as harshly as they treat the sell outs and hypocrites that the punk scene has been battling since time immemorial (i.e. 1983). Small indulgences like the reflective bass hook in “Sexecution” and the inclusion of an interlude track (!?) to seemingly bridge two halves of a complete whole hint that life is starting to catch up to these bayou vermin, and their emotions are getting too big to reduce to inflammatory slogans.
A friendly PSA brought to you by Thievery Corporation and Mr. Lif.
