In many ways a profoundly simple punk ditty, driving beat + serrated chords. There’s depth in the lyrics, soil for the paranoid in the post-Snowden era. Enjoyable and head-nodding but, like the cover of the album, it’s kinda laboured.
Evocative. Brittle. Vulnerable. Insert your own adjective that speaks of regret, loss and the smell of small towns. Then sit back, pour something overproof, and enjoy the sound of a glass that yearns to be half empty.