found a colorado fan review...

[lumpy]

Hey there - I read this nice review off of the Norcal e-mail list, and thought you all might want a gander too.

By Jeremy:

"Change of scenery, a changing of venues. The Denver-Boulder megalopolitan,
300 miles from the el bueno, la verga anglo-hispanic-indian funky styled,
even stranger tasting conglomeration that is Taos, New Mexico, served up a
whirlwind of music, Slipping ever so gently into the Past.

Music that can be easily classified or genretized. Not the Slip. Rap my
fingers with a splintered ruler, the Slip’s music is what pop could be with
a driving sense of purpose, gnarled teeth, and a prominent spine.

Catching the trio on the western frontier, “to the people on the west
coast/many a good host/I offer this toast,” is always a welcome soulful
smile. The Trilogy Wine Bar in Boulder, the first show of a 6 night CO
mini-tour, was billed as an a “rare, intimate” evening with the Slip.
Small, cozy, comfortable, temporarily housing a brimming mass of enthused
denizens, the single set was rapt with searching emotion, swelling tension,
and tidal changes amidst a crashing of the poignantly real. The rollicking
dissonance of “Get Me With Fuji” and “Even Rats” cognitively contrasted
with the yearning, bleeding “Suffocation Keep” and “Paper Birds.” The
catchy, emotion we love to despise yet a can never escape its miraculous
mirrored reflection “I Hate Love” collided with the instropective,
self-actualized “Sometimes True to Nothing.” A wonderful, needed,
twice-baked mashing of my often over-carbed, complex protein deficient
consciousness.

The Larimer Lounge in Denver, the following evening, was the devil’s cancer
pitchfork: black lung smoke soaked historically stained walls as the
dilapidated, exposed interior riblets questioningly supported the vaunted
unknown lingering overhead. This was a grittier, at times cacophonous,
musical outburst. Only slightly recognizable from the preceding expression,
“Paper Birds,” “Children of December,” and “Even Rats” were ensconced
comfortably with cover tunes by Sam Cook and Neil Young only to be socially
bitch slapped by a pounding “Cowboy Up” and droned, fuzzily anthemic “Poor
Boy.”