Austin’s Ringo Deathstarr has it tough. Before opening the case, I had already judged the bejeezus out of them. What a stupid name. What a stupid, stupid name. First hint to them: get a different name. Second hint: keep doing everything else the same. Any band that manages to essentially replicate My Bloody Valentine’s sound without sounding trite has me listening intently. It’s pretty common knowledge now because of the good old interwebs how Kevin Shields managed his groundbreaking guitar effects that propelled his band to eternal alt-music stardom (that’s what they called indie music back then, kids), and Ringo Deathstarr’s guitarist Elliott Frazier has spent his time tweaking knobs and placing speakers and whatever else you have to do to get that sought-after sound. The guitars sound exactly- exactly- like Loveless-era MBV. So do the drums and female vocals. Does this make the band as good or as groundbreaking as My Bloody Valentine? Good lord, no. No no no, no, an emphatic no. Lemme rephrase: NUP. I hate to make this review a straight side-by-side comparison to MBV, but Deathstarr’s asking for it. Look at what they’re playing! They want it. They want everybody talking about them to be forced to, even in passing, reference MBV. Even if you’ve never heard of My Bloody Valentine, somehow those words will escape past your lips if you’re talking about Ringo Deathstarr. So, here you go Ringos. You versus one of the best, most groundbreakingest groups of the last 30 years. Ahem. So, where MBV used their guitars in a nuanced, sophisticated way to create atmosphere, tension, rhythm and melody all in one, you, harnessers of this awesome power, have bent it to your own hipster-happy devices. You’ve used it to make poppy jams about getting really high and ex-girlfriends stealing your cardigans (“I’m So High,” “Imagine Hearts,” respectively, if you couldn’t figure that one). That being said, I still don’t know what the hell MBV were singing about. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t about getting high, even though Kevin Shields has been higher than your hipster brains could handle, for the last 15 years. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Don’t spill any on your cardigan though – such a disaster would probably spawn at least another EP’s worth of material. This just makes me want to listen to Loveless and scowl at this album. Wait, why am I putting it back in the CD player? Why has “I’m So High” been stuck in my head for the past week? Oh, goddamnit. (Club AC360, http://www.myspace.com/ringodeathstarr) David Nowacki