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Name-dropping in press releases has become an unfortunate commodity for bands. Not only is it a direct attempt at selling the band by using easy comparisons to bands of a more popular variety, but it’s pigeonholing them right off the bat. One band trying to make an identity out of such a case is 5¢ Deposit (“the bestest, rawest punk rockin' pop, this side of Screechin' Blinkin' Green Weasel Day!”).

Actually, We Have Your Daughter!, which was released to little fanfare last autumn, is far from raw. Without even putting into account the fact that a moderately-sized label (Radical) released the album, or that the band themselves produced it, the production and sound quality is far from raw - in fact, you could advertise this in a Crispix commercial easy; still crisp long after the milk (music) is poured in. If the disc was released on a major label’s imprint, no one would bring up production complaints. You could even say they went overboard on some points.

All production notes and criticism (or lack thereof) aside, musically, the band actually knows what the hell they’re doing, and they do it damn well. Apart from the cartoon hijinks splayed across its playful, thumbs-up wielding cover, 5¢ Deposit manage to convey adequately mature lyrics at times, and tight-as-fuck musicianship. After a prototypical voice mail introduction, the best track “On My Own” kicks into the speakers with palm-muted brilliance, and a followed-up amount of upbeat chord progressions, and amazingly well-placed backing “whoas” during the chorus; “I find at times between the tears/I’m drinkin’ pot and smokin’ beers/It’s not my friends I found this on my own.” No, that’s not a typo.

The double-bass break-neck beats dictating the Fat Wreck-signature tempo inhabit most of “Dropout,” and it does it well. They know it’s alright to leave a chorus out once in a while, and it’s another reason why this song is so good. There’s a strong fluidity in it, and a nice example of the strong lead vocals that never waver nor feel a suppressing need to turn whiny or falsetto.

Like Invitation to Tragedy’s (Bigwig) “Moosh,” “Broken Frames” is the “ballad” of the disc, incorporating a slightly more downtempo feel than the rest of the songs, and the inclusion of some relationship lyrics while still managing to keep a good lowbrow approach about it.

Of course, this is immediately followed up by the re-recorded “Pisshead,” the epiphany of teen angst immaturity; the repetitious-but-of-course-catchy chorus reads as follows: “Stop your fuckin’ bitchin I’m ok/Yeah yeah yeah/I’m just on drugs yeah yeah (repeat).” If anyone thought that the band was trying to reach a particular demographic, this is fairly solid proof.

Never seeming like they’re just going through the motions, “Stupid Me” exhibits yet another sing-along chorus, and sandwiching verses that build like sexually-deprived construction workers on a brothel. A song later, “Falls Apart” display more of those upbeat chords and a solid uptempo feel to fake closing out the disc nicely.

Hell, even the piano-laden ballads that close out the secret song-parts of the disc have something special about them. Dual vocals kick in during this version of “Gutter Christ,” putting a Taking Back Sunday-esque spin on the song when the second vocalist comes in singing “what do I have today, what do I have today?” Plus, in case you wondering what “Pisshead” would sound like stripped down to just piano and vocals, you have it (in a school talent show-ish setting!).

The band’s sound is in direct contrast to the typical Long Island emo sound emanating from our regions, and, while they don’t bring anything new to the table, they bring the Mr. T Experiencin’ Bigwig Rockin’ Face to Face with a perfect example of new-school quality pop-punk.

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