Box Elders Press


"Almost reaching into the financially untouchable Phil Spector sound on the first track, it's just one of those obviously spontaneous and instantly classic songs that you'll know by heart after the first play. With the fully-loaded tracks that follow it, it's so refreshing to see just how immediate and impressive the Box Elders' rudimentary pop cuts through the bullshit and locks into a maxim that instantly sets them apart from the growing legions of stripped-down simpletons."
VICTIM OF TIME

"About a year ago, the Box Elders rolled in to Columbus during one of their first large-scale tours of the country. Those in the audience who showed up—mostly due to the solid buzz surrounding the band’s debut 7-inch on Grotto Records—left fully converted by the live set. The three-piece, which features brothers Jeremiah and Clayton McIntyre on guitar and bass, respectively, and Dave Goldberg on drums and keys, masterfully blends garage, pop and punk sounds into a potent mix then topped off by lyrics that tend to explore the surreal and bizarre." AGIT READER

"A terrific garage pop-trio from Omaha with a sound half velvety fuzz and half magnetic pop buzz."  INDY WEEKLY

"The Box Elders play disarmingly simple, catchy pop music.... With their repertoire of under-two minute, chant-worthy tunes, the Box Elders are a band you can expect to become slowly and hopelessly hooked on." DAILY TEXAN

"Box Elders stole the show Saturday night at Market Hotel (1/10/09).... they left a lasting impression and had the whole, sold-out, Brooklyn room going crazy."
BROOKLYN VEGAN

"There are so many bands attempting to do this sound, and so few of them get it this right. This sounds like something that John Peel would have liked, and if he was still alive, I can imagine that he would have added this 7" to his box of favorite records."  SEVEN TEN TWELVE PRESS

"In a town where pretension can make it a little too easy to forget about rocking out, waving your freak flag and letting your long hair blow in the wind, The Box Elders take us back to a time when rock ‘n’ roll was the forbidden realm of druggies and thugs; when it was, for all purposes, a dirty little secret shared among black-leather clad friends between cigarette drags behind the school. " OMAHA READER


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