Reviews

Life on Long Island probably would have been a lot easier for Latterman if they were a Screamo band.  Come to think of it, life on Long Island can’t be easy to begin with. Furthermore, it would be shocking to find out that punk rock actually pays their bills. It’s mildly unimaginable at this point how a high caliber punk band such as this one has released three full length records and remained seemingly unnoticed  to anyone outside of the Northeast United States or the Deep Elm Records catalog.  The curiosity as to what drives a band like this to bang out songs like they do is consuming; four pissed off  New Yorkers with the patience to stay together long enough to see the sun rise is a rare find.
 
Compare Latterman to Hot Water Music, Fifteen, The Loved Ones and None More Black, but don’t  go so far as to label them a “rip off” of anything. Of course, sometimes the resemblance to the first aforementioned group is dangerously close to being more than based on influence. But fuck it, Hot Water Music was a great band which obviously doesn’t make music anymore (Unless you’ve heard The Draft, but that’s another review).  Their delivery style is short, fast and aggressive with a few surprise melodies where they count.  Accounting personal experiences then mixing them with social consciousness make for lyrics full of spirit, positivity and friendship.  Anyone can relate to Latterman; anyone can be their friend.  
 
Lyrics are simple, yet they stick. Of course, the song titles are often more interesting than the words inside of them.  Examples include songs like “If Batman Were Real He Would Have Beaten The Crap Out Of My Friends,” and “This Basement Gives Me A Headache.”  The real impact of Latterman’s lyricism comes in repeated one-liners that jump out towards the beginning or end of the songs.  Words like “You know I need to back-up from these dead ends, so back me up my friends,” and “If the ship sinks, what would we bring to the table other than another drink?” are some of the more memorable excerpts.   Vocalist/guitarist Phil Douglas could fill a stadium with the power behind his voice and when accompanied by bassist, Matt Cannino, the two become indestructible.
 
This music is inherently desperate. It’s unpolished and unmanufactured. It lacks professionalism and cleanliness. It is almost difficult to listen to. And that is why it’s great.  It’s a punk record made by punk kids with punk attitudes who grew up in basements watching the shitty punk bands who inspired them.  So, what do beer helmets, best friends and Bikini Kill have in common? You can find them all somewhere inside this record if you give it a fair shot.  Until “We Are Still Alive,” I was convinced that all the decent punk records for the year had been heard.