These Furrows’ bio goes to great lengths to convince the reader that they defy classification, or even a sniff of their influences – a piece of Pop-Propaganda smashed less than 3 seconds into ‘No Invitation, No Welcome’, when a sense of the rest of their material along with a picture of the band’s look, is instantly and fairly accurately formed (I only fell short of correctly guessing their designations). This is the two-thousand-and-teens attempt at wresting melodic Pop Punk back from the Children In Need
arena that McFly and Busted took it via Sum 41 & Blink 182′s already juvenile sodomisation of the genre.
These Furrows are putting the Punk back in Pop Punk, and are slightly more inventive than the form has ever been, but still produce whiney love bullshit destined for the adulation of Kerrang readers rather than bothering to impress themselves upon anyone outside of the Waitrose car parks where they botched ollies on their Spongebob skateboards. Despite their sleeve tattoos these kids look like they went to some abhorrent prom-apocalypse, and were friends with the pretty but suspected inbred kids drooling in the back seat of some ostentatious and obnoxious American convertible their businessman daddies rented for the occasion. And that’s as fine an analogy of this song as I can be bothered to muster.
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