A moody synthesizer wells up, but before the dark trance vibe overwhelms, a bouncy rift kicks in, like a child playing with an old Cassio keyboard. Softly, a man’s voice begins droning about SUV’s and other suburban nonsense. Then, heavy guitar punches through and Paul Reddon starts singing about the pointless misery of day-to-day drudgery. If this isn’t the best 20-second summary of most American lives, then Kiss was better without the make-up.

Despite the striking red and black face on the front of their second album, “Just Like Me,” Poptart Monkeys don’t wear make-up. They don’t need it. Their music, like their stage energy, is stripped down and raw. To hear some of the band members describe it, their music leans towards heavy melodic. But to say that is to over-simplify, to pigeon-hole. And the best thing about Poptart Monkeys is that they refuse to be simplified.

Songs like “Voices” pay homage to classic metal, with the repetitious chorus of “I hear voices in my head” just begging to be an ironic underscore to an independent film. If “This Trip” doesn’t get airplay on the campus radio circuit, then alternative rock is dead. The lyrical ballad, “Super Hero,” with lyrics like “Learn to live to tell you why I feel this way. I never meant to hurt this girl. Fly away, my super woman” is ready-made for the acoustic coffee shop crowd.

And “Planet Blue,” with its frantically increasing synth beat accelerating into a hard rock blast, could be a party on fast forward, a walk through a dorm room, or the last ten years of popular music condensed into a cosmic blast. Make sure to listen for the hidden track, "Thrift Store Chair," which takes a sometimes biting, sometimes funny look at a break-up, with lines like: "I'll keep the books, you keep the dirty looks."

Just like with their live performances, the sheer joy of music shines through on “Just Like Me.” This is a band on the verge; keep it up, guys.

Just Like Me, Poptart Monkeys
PTM Music, 2001