Weapons - The Reykjavik Grapevine

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Review
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Weapons

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Published January 12, 2009

It’s amazing how many singers Eddie Vedder has subliminally inspired to
suck. Hreinn of Weapons probably wasn’t going for Vedder’s signature
stuck-on-the-toilet nasal growl – in fact, he may not even listen to
Pearl Jam – but somehow, it snuck in there.
As for Weapons’ music, they have a sloppy, affable charm, and a knack
for writing songs so cheesy, limburger seems to waft out of the
speakers as they play. It’s all so innocent and childish – everything
from the slightly off-target lead guitars to the mind-blowingly insipid
photography on and inside the cover – that it’s impossible to truly
dislike this album, that is if you let go of all expectations that it
will be fashionable or relevant.
But in the end, Weapons probably don’t care. No-one making guitar pop
this basic could have any idea what’s going on in the rest of the
world, never mind what’s cool or in fashion; they’re just committed to
what they know they’re capable of. And that’s the great thing about
Weapons: they stick to their guns.

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