The Miniatures

By Garth Paulson

Message to mainstream rock radio stations: it’s time to play The Miniatures, assholes.

“Why?” you ask.

Well, first of all, they’re Canadian, we mustn’t forget about Canadian content rules. Second, and most importantly, they’re good. At least I think they’re good, in a weird, bad kind of way. It’s hard to explain.

Coma Kid is a frustrating album. Some songs are sludgy, almost Pixies-esque, which make me think “cool, they’re using funky keyboards in a sludgy almost Pixies-esque rocker.” Other songs are those really poppy indie songs that remind me of popsicles and water fights.

So what’s the problem?

Well, for some unknown reason, The Miniatures also play ballads. Like most ballads they feel dangerously out of place and fail miserably. Fucking ballads.

Add it all together and what do we find?

On the one hand, The Miniatures are a shamelessly fun band you just want to love. Then they’re also this stupid band that plays bad music and wastes an awful lot of potential while doing it. They’re not yet the indie darlings they could one day become, but they also don’t quite fit the radio mold either.

Nonetheless, you radio assholes should play them, if only to introduce a nice enough shrub the barren landscape you call home.


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