The Fucking Eagles

This rollicksome Tacoma group is one of the most effective local bands at transcribing fifties-style R&B/dance as guitar-lead happy punk. On the surface, their sound appears something like Jet if Jet wasn't lame, with friendly love/out-of-love lyrics that emit a self-aware poppiness. But don't be fooled—there is a competent rock foundation beneath the smiley sheen, as foretold by their totally rad (probably Big Lebowski-influenced) moniker that delightfully belies their sonic jolliness and makes one respect them even more. It's one thing to make infectious dance-rock, and yet another to kick ass while doing it. With The Suicide Notes, The Snap. TODD HAMM

Sat., Jan. 14, 9:30 p.m., 2012

 
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