The Boxer Rebellion

When self-financed albums are released, many of the accolades often end up being backhanded; everyone respects the drive and moxie to get the thing done more than the finished product itself. Last year's Union, however, the Boxer Rebellion's second release, could be viewed as a shot across the bow to those lined up with the intention of giving faint praise. Resembling a less-dreary Interpol and a more aggressive British Sea Power, the Boxer Rebellion's songs take a fairly familiar drive through the last 10 years of British rock, but they turn corners without hitting the brakes, and the stops along the way aren't exactly to take in beautiful scenery. If a BSP album is like a bike ride through the English countryside, the Boxer Rebellion is a tour of Whitechapel in a rusty MG with a dodgy clutch. There's a certain mix of corrosion and claustrophobia present in their work, but there is also unmitigated triumph—almost as if the songs are on the verge of becoming black holes and supernovae all at once. They're not really here to regurgitate the last 10 years of British rock, they're here to vandalize it and claim it for themselves. With Amusement Parks on Fire, Grayshot. 18+. (Photo by Mark Prins)
Fri., Oct. 1, 8 p.m., 2010

 
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