by Katie Sauro
Unfortunately for both our deterioriating ears and our deteriorating wallets, we’ve all gone to shows and been so blown away by a band that we bought their album, only to be thoroughly disappointed upon listening later. But the Blakes, those adorably charming indie kids with tight pants and even tighter live sets, have created an album that inconceivably does their punk-infused shows justice. The Seattle trio’s (Garnet, Snow, Bob) second self-released full-length, simply titled The Blakes, shows why they have been so critically heralded around town, and why local industry folks are urging them to get a fucking label already. As simple '60s pop melodies surrender to a chaotic frenzy of guitar work and vamped up vocals, the new album surpasses even its most daunting of comparisons—and quite handily, I might add. The Blakes are more than a gritty Strokes incarnate, more than a faux-British Libertines manifestation (although their “Modern Man” sounds quite a bit like Pete and company’s “Death on the Stairs”). They are, very simply, one of the best bands in Seattle right now—and as this and hopefully future albums attest, the Blakes are poised to hold court for quite some time.
More on The Blakes: www.myspace.com/theblakes.