Maybe it’s something about suburbia and small towns… Grow up in one and chances are you’ll find yourself secretly drinking in a parking lot, probably before you’re of legal drinking age. I’m not making this up. Watch SubUrbia or Say Anything. It’s a cultural phenomenon. Somehow, convenience store parking lots become the perfect meeting ground for angst, apathy, and rebellion. Sorta like Pants on Fire, a band out of Prescott fueled by a combination of youthful discontent and minor dissent. They remind me of the Moldy Peaches if you took out the douchey NYC facade and replaced it with healthy heaping of authenticity. I’ll drink to that. Preferably in a parking lot. Check them out.
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