Reviews / Album

Ending on an uninhibited rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, you’ve got to give Cannon credit for knowing how to have a good time.

The dual singing/songwriting and incredibly prolific front of Toby Leaman and Scott McMicken can certainly hold their own as top-shelf tunesmiths and the finest of vocalists on this here eighth long-player.

In its manner, it holds you just far enough away to see the style, while often appearing emotional and intimate.

This Drake looks into a diamond-studded, gold-rimmed mirror and a void stares back. A rare thrill.

The EP’s lack of sophistication is partially made up for by the band’s liveliness and commitment to their craft.

Their smooth, smoky burlesque sound seems like it would naturally thrive in a performance setting rather than on record.

Bloods show that you can rip out garage jams without sounding like shit; thank the whoa-oh choruses of MC and Sweetie, and the great guitar sound they squeeze from every tune.

The rapping is still there, but it’s what’s always separated them from their peers. The world needs more ‘90s So Cal.

Simple yet seductive, these tracks are loose and lo-fi but that’s half their charm. Tons of potential.