Never has music been stamped so clearly with a recommended age limit than the times we live in now. Maybe that's already pretty obvious to most, but I never really had to think about it until it occurred to me that I may have to explain to most of my adult friends why I really like Mondo Primo's debut, 2FNHOT.
And actually, it's only technically a debut. Until several months ago, Mondo Primo were called Feable Weiner. After a few years of seeming inactivity, they've craftily attempted to avoid the "sophomore slump" by releasing their would-be follow-up as a debut. But for all intents and purposes, we're still talking about a rebranded Feable Weiner record. Anyone who caught FW in their heyday at Murfreesboro's deceased indie haven the Red Rose Cafe will remember cramming into a room full of recently licensed drivers—since the band's bread and butter has always been the underaged.
Hence, it's no surprise that one listen to these high-pitched harmonies, hyperbolic pop hooks, and choruses that belt sentiments like, "Dude, listen up / Your girlfriend sucks," and most folks old enough to buy a beer are probably going to dismiss this as kid stuff. And, on the surface, I can't blame them. Mondo Primo draw most of their vocabulary from Keanu Reeves' dialogue in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. In fact, if Wyld Stallyns had idolized Brian Wilson and Rivers Cuomo more and Eddie Van Halen less, I imagine they'd have turned out something that sounds a lot like this.
Mondo manage to stand apart from their more redundant, predictable colleagues with meticulous attention to detail and influences that stretch a little further back than the past decade. Layer on layer of vocal harmonies are thick on almost every track, streaming beneath chunky, jangly guitar riffs and riding over speedy tempos, intertwining with a sophisticated sense of melody. I would imagine some would even consider it a waste to hear this kind of musicianship squandered on songs about video games and power chords that lament over all the girls they miss while on tour.
Then again, if you consider spending 32.8 minutes of your day goofing around, singing catchy songs, and totally not acting your age a waste, your money would most definitely be better spent on a pack of Rolaids and the Sunday edition of The New York Times.
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