Pitchfork

Okay, I shouldn't even have to tell you on this one. Sub Pop's venture into greaser rock territory has turned up zero worthwhile bands. So, what's the problem? My theory is mid-life crisis. Label founder Jonathan Poneman is a grizzled, middle-aged old fucker these days, likely longing for the long-lost days of his youth. But whereas most aging spinsters only inflict torment on their own finances through purchases of speedy, high-powered sports cars, Poneman spreads his suffering to the used bins of indie record stores.

I could be wrong about this. It could be he's kicking back in a Northwestern penthouse, making love to a bank account padded by the grunge explosion and letting some lackey sign anyone with a guitar. But given recent signings like Nebula, the Murder City Devils, and-- oh yeah-- the Yo-Yo's, it seems the only possible explanation.

The Yo-Yo's are well-versed in the three-chord rock song, but they owe their sound (if it can truly be called "theirs") more to the L.A. Guns than to the Ramones. And that's being way nicer than necessary. At least the L.A. Guns were stylish for their time-- these guys sound like 1980 and look like Sha-Na-Na. Influenced by the alterna- punk stylings of Social Distortion and-- if they're lucky-- the Get Up Kids, these 14 songs make 10 Minute Warning seem almost superhuman in capability. From the rockin', drag-racing rave-up of the opening anthem, "1,000 Miles from Me," to the rockin', drag-racing rave-up of the closing anthem, "Half-Hour Heartache," these songs are 100% indistinguishable from one another. They all feature the exact same distorted pop/punk guitar sound, frontman Danny McCormack's throaty, chorused growl, and the plodding, formulaic drumming of Bladz. Wait a minute, let me say that again: Bladz. God bless Orange County.

But of course, it could never be that simple. The Yo-Yo's aren't from anywhere near Orange, California. Instead, they've been imported-- like a fine wine-- from England. How sad is that? They want so badly to be American, they can almost sound like it. And that, in the end, is the band's ultimate shortcoming. Despite the incredible simplicity of replicating American pop/punk, the Yo-Yo's occasionally slip out of their t-shirts and skate shoes, and into full Kiss regalia, as on the brilliant "Out of My Mind." Oops! Sorry, guys, I don't know many punks that can appreciate the timelessness of Ace Frehley's extended soloing.

The Yo-Yo's encapsulate everything that is wrong with Sub Pop in 2000. Who in God's name is doing their A&R and why weren't they stopped before they ran the label's credibility into the dirt? After the immediate disappearances and sagging sales of the Hellacopters, Gluecifer, and the Go, why would Sub Pop sink to the Yo-Yo's? Are they targeting some new bogus demographic, or do they just want to distance themselves from Eric Matthews and Combustible Edison? Even Time Bomb is more punk than Sub Pop now, as evidenced by the departure of Sunny Day Real Estate, and they have Death in Vegas. Suffice to say, it doesn't get much worse than this, but if it does, I can guarantee it'll be on Sub Pop.