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There's certainly nothing sloppy about the music here. Blades play math-rock-y, churn-and-sway indie-rock that recalls June of 44, Slint, Rodan, and the rest of that whole Kentucky/Chicago axis of bands, and they do it like nobody's business. The whole thing's tight as a drum, muscular and intricate, with freakin' incredible drumming from Kyle (no last names needed, apparently), who, along with bassist David, pretty much propels the songs along from track to track....

Rest of the review can be found here: Space City Rock Review

Further, it clocks in at about 28 minutes, which is a good amount of exercise for people who haven’t gotten around to upgrading their footwear past the slip-on stage. But for us, what really works is the deliberate pacing of Blades’ songs, especially on this release. It’s as comfortable to walk to as it is to pick up the pace with. And there are bursts (but not outbursts, mind you), of speed and increased intensity where you’re fat ass just might want to hit the SPEED UP button a few times and earn some sweat for a change. Mercifully too, there are moments where things slow down a bit...

YOU HEARD THE MAN, GET YOUR EXERCISE GEAR!

Read more here:The Skyline Network!

Instrumental rock has to get over a tough hurdle. If you take away the human voice within a rock context, you’ll find a lot of people keep a safe distance because instrumental music is considered by many to be cold and unapproachable. Thankfully, any performance by Pasadena’s Blades takes this notion head-on. The band’s decidedly unpretentious approach is a kick in the pants to anyone expecting music for chin-scratching intellectuals and last month’s performance at the Mink surely must have laid that notion to rest.

Read the rest of the article by Ramon Medina in the FreePressHouston: Blades of Glory

What some guy said about one of our shows...
"Four nondescript guys with a bass, 2 guitars, and drums (oh the drums!). This is the sound of the slick desolation of Houston's outskirts, a place boasting equal numbers of alligators and armadillos. Melodic and beautiful oil refinery rock-n-roll with a hammer hidden behind its back. Like something unseen biting you. Like wandering the aisles of a broken down convenience store after midnight, yellow lights making your eyes itch while the smells of burnt matches and Lysol hang in the air. Like an unexplained adrenaline and coffee buzz at 2 in the afternoon. Instrumental without being sleepy or boring, unpredictable while remaining accessible. On Halloween the guys in Blades dress up like zombies...every single year. Watch a horror movie, drink half a beer and eat a vegetarian cheeseburger, go for a drive alone, and listen to Blades." -Rik Speed