Form of Rocket are a band intent on bringing a new spin to hardcore and postpunk - an ignorant and offensive spin. Experimentation is great, but this just isn't necessary, even if it isn't that obvious at first glance.

Form of Rocket plays a frantic and energetic style of music at various times reminiscent of Fugazi, Rye Coalition and the under-appreciated Harriet the Spy. But they don't fly very close to the orbits of these superb bands. Form of Rocket launches on a trajectory that is more than slightly off course. The real clincher comes in their lyrics. Now, I appreciate ass humor that pushes buttons as much as the next liberal arts college educated young man, but this shit is adolescent, sexist and sporadic. At least be consistent with your stupidity.

"Loving Her was Easy" offers the following wisdom: "Loving her was easy, until I saw her dick… I fucked her so hard she could taste it. Hell, I could taste it. Come on baby, I know what you want. Got it here for you. Come on baby, I know what you need. Let's fuck."

OK, so my reaction is probably exactly what the band is going for here, but as I mentioned before, this isn't even cleverly provocative. It is slightly misleading too, as sometimes the music achieves an interesting level of intertwining guitar work, as on "You Know What This Is" (which fortunately only has one lyric, "You know what this is. Fire.") or the spacey intro of "My Name is a Killing Word." There are other ambiguous moments on this album about jungles and prisons that may or may not be some cryptic racist statements. Band member Ben Dodds makes the following statement: "When it comes right down to it, we're pushing our limits musically and personally in every way we can think of. If our band was a rollercoaster, I think the carts would be on the verge of flying off the tracks." We get the picture Ben, you're the postpunk Andrew Dice Clay. I recommend skipping Form of Rocket, their provocations just aren't worth it.