Give 'Em All A Big Fat Lip : The Whigs : Review : Rolling Stone

Like the nineteenth-century political party that inspired their name, the Whigs are an anachronism. The baby-faced trio from Athens, Georgia, is currently riding high from heaps of buzz earned not by a wacky YouTube video or ripping off Joy Division but by two years of old-fashioned relentless gigging. Its debut album (cut more than a year ago while the group members were still students at the University of Georgia) evokes the neo-roots-rock vibe of My Morning Jacket, the cool minimalism of the Strokes and the perfectly constructed pop of the early Sixties. "Can't Hear You Coming" features a four-piece horn section, nonsensical lyrics and enough punk-rock energy to tear through the song in barely two minutes. The creepy album closer, "All My Banks," slithers over seven minutes with the help of a marauding circus organ and a lone trombone. This is one Whig party that's built to last.