Shake your rattle snake skin.

this album is a perfectly bad example of a band playing hard to get.

track numero uno kicks things off with a whiny circus show of what might as well be latin sing-spoken words and obnoxious organs. it'll make you feel like you're on a merry-go-round set for never-ending torturous destruction. seriously. it's bad.

but you say to yourself 'i bought this album on a whim because i saw it in paste magazine and that guy at urban outfitters seemed pretty stoked about it...let's give it a few more cuts before i can officially feel like a jackass for giving in to such stereotypical impulses.'

tracks two and three might as well be twins. the wining persists. but wtf is this? you're starting to like it. or maybe that denial coaxed by the never-ending trendy merry-go-round is just tricking you into finding something appealing about the sound.

either way, as the album continues it becomes much much more appetizing.

track number ten comes out of left field and hits you right between the eyes. this is my song. when i want to listen to cyhsy, i automatically skip to track ten on the self-titled album, no exceptions. this is the song you drive to during the summer on a cool night right at sunset.

so for that, i'll accept cyhsy's apologies. you've made one excellent song. one that i will never grow tired of. now take notes and keep doing that in the future. because, while i can tolerate the ew gross ow my ears hurt sound, 98% of everybody else in the world can't.

but then again, i guess that's just being indie.