REVIEW: The Wrens, Abbott
- Al Muzer
Pop music you almost have to be in the mood for as opposed to pop music that works every time you hear it, The Wrens are still, apparently, thoroughly pissed at Grass Records for the screwing-over the poorly-run label/brilliantly-conceived tax write-off gave 'em after they couldn't make anything happen with 1994's Silver or the critically-acclaimed Secaucus two years later.
With the dust finally settled, Sett, Whelen G.E., Charles Mexico and Jerome MACdonnell return with six lyrically bitter pills of XTC-like punk-centric guitar-quirk that try their best to blend the sparseness and elliptical hooks of the Police with a noisy, hyperactive, Brian Wilson-on-crank desire to fill every single second with some sort'a ringing, chiming, clanging, attention - getting noise.
The Wrens can be contacted at PO Box 81, Ocean View, NJ 08230.
