On "Connector", the Parade's ominous, quckfire pop tries to get in and out of the door so fast you don't have a moment to react. Its muted intro is abandoned in mere seconds, as if there's no time for table-setting -- it's soon replaced by acoustic chords bristling against the walls and riotous percussion clamours towards a triumphant ending. "Connector" is a song about basically saying fuck it to everything and having a good time with your lover, and so it should be a joy, but it sounds more like a terrifying car chase --  the band's prime lyric, sung as part of a lover's vocal harmony, is "dance the night away", but the song it belongs to is a getaway anthem. This is widescreen acoustic rock, a quainter version of Andrew Jackson Jihad's record earlier this year, which tried to bring out something heavy and punk in folk traditions.  

Actually, the Parade are what I imagine Michael Bay would be like at an open mic. The songs rattle and wrestle with themselves, plucked guitars giving way to precisely and boisterously prepared explosions. On B-side "Belle of the Ball", the band keep bursting into a measured chorus of gruesome feedback and lethargically crashing drums. It all happens in slow motion, like that bit in Transformers just before the robots make impact and everything turns to shit. These are good, cruel folk rock songs, panoramically made. I haven't had much time to think about it -- the Parade drag you through the fire and brimstone, and don't care much for how you feel -- but I'm pretty sure it's a good thing.