I'm sorry Mr. Michelangelo, but to say that Boys and Girls in America is "baldly romantic and occasionally just wet, with acoustic instruments increasingly prominent" is flatout wrong. There is very little acoustic guitar on that great record, and I don't know what you mean by "wet." It is probably the band's best reviewed record, and it is certainly my favorite. A few people I talked to thought it was a tad overproduced, but its great songs makes that easy to overlook. Still, I'm happy that Salon is paying attention to what is perhaps the best bar band in the world! Nice going.

Very nice review of one of the best American rock bands playing right now.

no music sample?

i thought this was multimedia

rock music is boring

Screw indie rock.

Whenever I'm rolling through the countryside, I like to play the most urban g-funk from the early 90's possible. It helps reassure me that I am as far from country as possible.

Plus I like the contrast provided by listening to "Tha Shizznit" as you roll across flat rural plains, or through virgin northern forests at 80+ MPH.

Review some music, salon, it's about time. i'm still mad you got ride of the audiofile section. i liked this review, much less pretentious than pitchfork with maybe a little more humanity. i like The HS, but I don't love them.

I'm not sure if this is the way the author meant it, but "wet" is a studio term describing the use of reverb (or other effects, for that matter); adding more reverb/effect makes the track "wetter," lessening it makes it "drier." (Example: "My Morning Jacket's first albums were drenched with reverb, about as wet as you could get and still have discernible music.")

And acoustic doesn't necessarily refer to acoustic guitars; non-electronic keyboards like piano (or non-digital electronic keyboards, like organ or electric piano) can be referred to as "acoustic" in a sense. Basically, stuff that has to be mic'd as opposed to digitally processed. That could be what the author means, I'm not sure of course.

And to the letter writer who revels in blasting gangsta rap while driving through the "countryside" (whatever he means by "countryside" - the rural "heartland," or just Westchester Co.?): believe it or not, kids in rural America are listening to rap more than anything else these days. So, your too-cool-for-school attempts at being subversive aren't as successful as you'd probably like to believe.

But don't worry, we'll still keep producing food for you and the other city folk.

I'm a 30 year old rock weenie with WAY TRADITIONALIST semi-popular rock tastes. Child of the '90s and all that. I learned everything I ever needed to know from my dad's Springsteen records and some hard time spent with Urge Overkill and Matthew Sweet and the Breeders. I know which side of a Fender Mustang is up. In short, I am the Hold Steady's target audience.

And for some reason they leave me flat. They're grown-ups singing about highschool parties. It's a calculated bid for nostalgia points. All of it -- the classic rock radio sheen, the sweet but smart ripped-from-Diablo-Cody's-notebook lyrics, the constant hardcore name dropping. It's fake sincerity.

The Hold Steady are peddling a New Yorker's wet dream of an imaginary adolescent Middle West where everyone is greasy and stoned and horny. They're giving thirtysomethings the past they wished they'd had if they hadn't been told that drugs and STDs were lurking around ever mistake and likely going to RUIN THEIR LIVES FOR EVER.

For my money, the Drive-by Truckers are a much better and much more honest conceptual throw-back fake classic rock band.

I've always been one to fall in love with bands, and for the past three years that band has been The Hold Steady. I tell everyone to buy their records and more importantly see them live. Those who respond with ambivalence are mocked and scorned and I never again consider their taste in music. Ever. Anyone who doesn't "get" The Hold Steady, doesn't know how to have a good time, and has never understood rock & roll. There's room for all sorts of bands and music in your life, but if there's no room for The Hold Steady, you need to reevaluate your life. They are that good.

And to the letter writer who revels in blasting gangsta rap while driving through the "countryside" (whatever he means by "countryside" - the rural "heartland," or just Westchester Co.?): believe it or not, kids in rural America are listening to rap more than anything else these days. So, your too-cool-for-school attempts at being subversive aren't as successful as you'd probably like to believe.

But don't worry, we'll still keep producing food for you and the other city folk.

I'd rather you didn't produce food; a sizeable portion of my tax dollars goes to massive agricultural subsidies for the American agricultural bohemoths. It can be grown a lot cheaper in other places if not for this political interference.

Regardless, not all the food I eat is grown here. I only eat sushi.

Once I heard a performance of a long song written by a guy named Bartok. It was a lot of instruments making noises together.

Then, another time, somebody told me to listen to a mix-tape. They said it was completely different from Bartok. But it was just more instruments making noises together. The only difference this time was that some people were singing with the instruments and it was recorded.

The Hold Steady sounds more like the mix-tape than like Bartok, but they both sound like music. More of the same. Yawn.

Sometimes I play music loudly to make other people angry, but I'm only being ironic; I definitely don't enjoy it.

I am bored and sophisticated and live in a coastal city.

Rarely has a screen name been more at odds with the content of a comment.

The Hold Steady are peddling a New Yorker's wet dream of an imaginary adolescent Middle West where everyone is greasy and stoned and horny.

I think what you just described there is Craig Finn's personal wet dream, one that a nerdy, suburban Midwestern kid has been spinning into lyrics for years and years, even before Lifter Puller. I sincerely doubt it's calculated. Whether he lived it or not, Craig Finn means every word.