Dramarama plays the sort of stuff that rock purists love: committed music that will never be turned into a beer commercial, with tough grooves and angst-ridden lyrics about everything from cheating lovers to drug addicts to the environment.
The tunes have that garage-rock looseness of bands like the Replacements or early Rolling Stones. But while many of the songs work well, the album as a whole is too self-absorbed, and John Easdale's voice is pretentiously tortured. The band wears its suffering on its sleeve. Roll up those sleeves, guys, and have some fun. (Chameleon)