Sonic Reducer

Not all geeks grow up to be millionaires—some become rock stars. I can't say for sure if the men who make up Bones were geeks, nerds or dweebs in high school, but Disconnected sounds like the product of two adults who spent adolescence in their bedrooms listening to ’60s protest rock and plotting the humiliation of the pretty-boy asshole in third period. In the simple guitar, bass and drums style similar to the White Stripes, Disconnected is saturated with sexual tension and the total dismissal of everything that doesn't matter.

Avid fans hate when their band goes mainstream. For one, making it to the “big time” exponentially increase the chances for overproduction. There is a good album hidden within Lights Out--if only Sugarcult had recorded it in, say, a two-car garage with minimal tweaking. “Los Angeles” is a good song, it just lacks the edge that only imperfect recording or the unpredictability of performance can deliver. Good thing Sugarcult will be at the Sunshine Theatre on Monday, Oct. 9. Even without ever seeing them in concert, I'm sure they're better than this album suggests.

For the past four days, this Aussie-trio has been lingering in my head like the punchline to an inside joke only I know. At first listen, I didn't think much of Gravity Won't Get You High, but when I started humming “1920-20” while reading Dune, it was apparent The Grates had left an impression. Since then, I've been fighting the desire to run up to random people on the street to ask them if they've heard this album. It's akin to knowing a huge secret and having no one to share it with. Here—I'm sharing.