How I Became the Bomb is doing more today for the disruption of domestic life than any other cause. Speculation in matters of sport, clandestine outings in the dead of night, scorekeeping against the conjugal bedstead, and even disrespect for the civilized maintenance of the unblemished home are among the detestable results.

 

But someone will say, “How I Became the Bomb is so adroit and puissant! The new wave grace of their synthesizers is equaled in merit only by the clever immediacy of their lyrics, delivered with such cherubic irony by redoubtable front man Jon Burr. And their rhythm section, with its cheeky blend of 70’s funk and 90’s rock, sends me into rapturous paroxysms! No, How I Became the Bomb is too bewitchingly exquisite. I cannot quit them.”

 

My brother and my sister, you can find many styles of music far more enobling than How I Became the Bomb. Music with influences more distinguished than DEVO and ELO, ABBA and Nobuo Uematsu. Performed by musicians not given to hiding behind fictitious identities such as “Big Spo”, “Mister 76”, or “Rusty Hanberry.” From troupes assembled in more auspicious locales than Murfreesboro, TN (where in 2005 the motley assemblage played their first engagement in a tavern customarily given to furtive performances from an illicit all male revue).

 

Life is too abbreviated for you to waste it filling your ears with such seditious dross as their debut EP Let’s Go. Your time for improvement is too brief to squander on such degrading refuse as their first full length album Deadly Art. And though its dazzling melodies may glimmer as a lantern in the Stygian depths, though its succulent harmonies may gratify and delight in measure enough to satiate Tantalus, though Nectar and Ambrosia may drip from its every pore: You must avoid at all cost their forthcoming EP Adonis, recorded with attention and affection under the aegis of their label Decibel Collective Records and to be available to the non-discerning customers on November 4th.

 

Great tedium is the mark of moral rectitude; marvelously tranquil is the sound of silence absent the clapping of hands and the tapping of feet. Keep to these things, and absent yourself from the pernicious music of How I Became the Bomb.