First of all, researching this band proved to be a pain in the ass. Information on these guys was every bit as easy to find as a G & T at a Utah Christmas party. It was a hard night of tireless Googling, and I even resorted to the fucked-up low-self-esteem world of MySpace and their band database, but immediately encountered an unholy barrage of pop-ups challenging me to win an X-Box - if I could kill the terrorists on the screen with the digital sniper gun sights. They didn't have any info on the band and "no" I didn't win a X-mas Box. Alas, I think I've finally got the band members straight and was happy to learn that Make Believe is a side project featuring members from the dark and all-mighty Joan of Arc. The evolution is a little confusing. If all the band connections were linked and represented in the form of a chronological graph - it would resemble a cotton ball. This is dense shit. Basically members of Make Believe include Joan of Arc notables, Tim Kinsella, Sam Zurick, Bobby Burg, and Nate Kinsella.

It turns out the boys have been moonlighting on Make Believe for about three years, and have brought forth their baby from the fertile hot-bed of all things indie - the Big Windy. (That's Chicago, by the way). The music itself is an unclassifiable fusion of a number of disparate styles and elements - throughout the listen I caught wind of such notables as - Mission of Burma, Modest Mouse, Fugazi, Radiohead, The Strokes, and even At the Drive-in. This album is rockable about ten times straight with little or no irritating ticks. Make Believe makes amazing noise in a world of music that's becoming more lackluster and unimaginative as the days pass. Experimental, sometimes overly artsy and spazzy garage rock with occasional keyboard forays sets the stage for unpredictable mellow dramatics.

"Say What You Mean's" spoken-word growling and desperate epileptic tongue-swallowing bellows are hard enough to comprehend, let alone describe. "Small Apartment Party Epiphany" is an Evens folk rock inspired jam, that revolves around a cocky moon-walking cat, but then coming back to earth with the line, "Someone peanut buttered on the cat's paws." At one point during some random-ass zip-zappity boom bipity dips one might think, "Hey, maybe I can even start a band." Although "Shock of Being" leaves your head spinning in an abnormal direction of fuzzy riffs and jing-jangle drums, shortly after that your brain is allowed to recover finding solace in the last track's haunting intro that finally leaps into an avalanche of shaky, emotional crooning. It's one of those songs that give you butterflies, very awesome if you were to ask me. Oh, and by the way, you shouldn't start a band. Seriously - do us a favor. The drumming on "Funio Nambata Had a Farm" bends the sticks harder than you do when bending your Bic to pop off your Grolsch bottle cap. "Momentum Logic" is an abrasive son of a bitch, featuring "squeal like a pig" vocals that are beyond impossible to decipher. "One Zero" is an ode to mathematical common sense while "The Storm on her Birthday" has one of those rhythms like Tool's, "Schism." Yes this album is hard to nail down genre wise, although the abstract rock out parts makes me feel a little progressive. You hear that? Even a little progressive - there I've said it. So come on over, nail me to a board, and set fire to the fucker - anything to get out of shopping. Happy Holidays everybody, oops I mean Merry Christmas.