There is nothing quite so cloying as the sound of a completely mediocre album. The Safes unleash Well, Well, Well on the world with nary a regard for hooks or cohesion. The album's songs flow together indeterminately, and with the whole thing clocking under half an hour, one is thrown clear from the accident without much permanent damage. The Safes tried. Their power pop sound certainly has a place, but would probably be better off in the hands of more capable songwriters. The band adopts a very no-nonsense instrumentation. Then it tries its hardest to be British, like an angstier Beatles or punk version of The Kinks. But the whole effort falls apart when one realizes there's not much of a redeeming value here. Just when you start to like a song, it finishes abruptly, or it veers off course or you realize that the whole basis for your liking is because The Safes for a second remind you of other, better bands. A few times on Well, Well, Well, The Safes sound as good as those bands. But the moment is fleeting, like the instant you realize during Spring Fling that you still have work to do. It is a shame this space could not be spent on more promising artists.

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