Point:
"...produced with rickety joy by should-be-giant Ypsi songwriter Jim Roll. It..s suitably hackle-raising rock ..n.. roll thats as thick and warm as Billy Beer, and which, by all rights, should be twisting from a gallows tree, sharing a branch with Paul Westerberg, two boughs beneath Phil Lynott..s. Healthy-lunged singing, dueling guitar leads, country-riffs-on-steroids and poppy "ahhhh" harmonies fortify tunes detailing beauty queens, weed-booze benders, living in the parent..s garage, childhood reminiscences and failed dreams. It drips pathos and heart; like a gin-blossomed barstool raconteur, humor and sadness lurking beneath the grins and twang. As understood by the bands dogged fan base, this quartet is a sumation of a good old American rock nroll songbook, only loud as fuck." Brian Smith, Metro Times
Counterpoint:
"When Porchsleeper finally took the stage, my ears were battered with 5th rate Big Star aping. Guitars too metallic and loud, no dynamism between the songs and a particularly (memorable) terrible lyric somewhere along the lines of “I can’t get over all these coffee shop kids. When I was young, kids didn’t drink coffee.” I definitely understood the presence of “sleeper” in the band name. I yawned. Time wasted." Ben Blackwell, The Dirtbombs
