Remember sunday afternoons when a meaningless football game was on tv, you were hung over, and you sat with your friends for hours watching a tv screen but not really registering what was on it? A time where, to use the words of the beatles you had 'nowhere to go, oh that magic feeling'. Well, perhaps it wasn't quite magical. Maybe it was more like sap running from a tree; very slow and creeping with nowhere to go but down. With tales of whiskey binges and the girl who got away, Jodi Hates the World presents a world of traumatic saturday nights retold through the filter of sunday afternoons. Owing as much musically to bands like Hum and early Smashing Pumpkins as they do lyrically to Hank Williams Sr., they have a spacy sound that is beautifully depressing and self loathing; Achingly personal; and full of the stuff that makes for a cathartic experience, they make music that truly matters, music that forces the listener to search their soul and dig up every painful memory, every lonely night with friends. Full of people but utterly alone. Their songs span the psyche. They go from self destruction, to hatred, to regret, and finally coming full circle to a realization. A realization that monday soon approaches, and it's a new week full of heartbreak, but heartbreak with a purpose. Shane Stewart-KSLU.