Some bands merely come and go, and a proud few, work tirelessly during their short tenured, but illustrious careers to perfect the art of reinventing, then clueless, bludgeoning wheels that have long since been dead and flattened.
Enter, North to Emerson, a band who recklessly characterizes the latter.
Birthed in a town in Minnesota known more for its hockey than its burgeoning pop-punk scene; comprised of a morbidly obese mohawked baby-face, a goateed pothead, an ex-jock and a Trekkie-like D&D kid, they have delicately crafted a garage quality Hot-Topicesque pop-punk record that soothes the ears…if being pummeled with a spiked bat covered in blood qualifies as soothing.
I don’t mean to be a hater. I’ve just seen such a tragic set of events unfold for me personally over the past year that simply letting these naïve kids get away with making such filthy music with an archaic formula, was not an option. I understand that St. Cloud is an arctic wasteland, where it feels more like ‘96 than ‘06 and that questionable “influences” are in abundance, but I will no longer stand for it. So be it if I anger their adoring legions and perhaps the band themselves. I will sacrifice my usual Switzerland-like stance to bring attention and urgency to this raging epidemic in the realm of journalism.
Please, let your voice be heard!
