In the world of Sucker Supreme, Rosie Tucker's first record on Epitaph Records, melody is king, lyricism is queen, and noise is the old man with the long beard who seems to have come from nowhere and is now making important decisions based on his belief that “some of your organs are just evil”.
Ticking Geiger counters, synthesized whale calls, blooms of electric guitar repeating infinitely. No one involved is boring enough to say that these are sad songs that sound happy. Some of them are just sad songs that sound sad. But as with all things Tucker, nothing is so simple as to exist in a binary. Male or female, married or divorced, destruction or salvation, these are not two opposite sides of the same coin, they are all related points on the same sphere.
On Sucker Supreme, a synth drone rubs up against an Underoath-inspired guitar riff, arcade bleeps accompany tape slams and throughout it all, Tucker’s voice leads the way. Sometimes yipping, sometimes yelling, always saying the right thing at the right time.