A Seattle band drives over a thousand miles to Chicago to record with
Steve Albini, and this is the result -- a record that only escapes the sludgy bombast Albini slathers on everything he touches through its strong resemblance to
Slint. That might not sound like an entirely appealing result, but it's far better than one might suppose --
Engine Kid pulls off its
Slint-y constructions rather well, finding a certain grace in their slower moments. It's only when the dynamics explode and rev up that the unfortunate "
Steve Albini produced me" quality rears its ugly head.