Silent Sevens = Fountains of Wayne + Smash Mouth
Campy. It might not be the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind when thinking of the Silent Sevens’ self-titled release. No. Campy is definitely the right word. Simple instrumentation reminiscent of a Fountains of Wayne album accompanied by lyrics that remind me too much of the “happy, happy boughs” of spring (April truly is the cruelest month) leave the majority of Silent Sevens an album that won’t interest a lot of people. Really, it might interest those special few who truly believe spring is a magical time that breeds love in us all; those special few too clueless to realize that this is just their evolutionary senses telling them to fuck so their newborn babies don’t freeze to death.