It should never have happened. A band like this should have sent their demo to a few record labels, been scoffed at for being complete tripe, and then headed back to stacking supermarket shelves and playing in cover bands. But unfortunately, someone somewhere thought there would be a market for crap Blur meets Feeder B-sides and promptly signed up Puscha. (Did you catch the "clever" spelling twist in their name there?)
A grand total of four vocal lines are sung over the most generic wanna be rebel-rock track I have heard in years. The only, and I mean only, high point is Adam Stroud's very predictable (but pleasant) six-string solo around the two minute mark.
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