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Lately, the streets of rock and roll seem cluttered with matching Mod dresses filled with Swedes and Brits with their hair in bangs and Phil Spector in their lockets. The Affair tear through them like a flame. There might be girl groups in their rearview mirrors, but there are knives in their hands and there is lightning in their eyes. Faux-finishing school poses and demure, wistful cooing have been demolished by soulful defiance. The "my boyfriend's back and there's going to be trouble" of yesteryear has been appended with "because I'm going to kick his ass for leaving". Holloway's voice is bruised and angry but triumphant on "Dead Letters", playful and full of sass on "Jailbait Date" and positively flawless on "Left At The Party". Her own lyricism is at once coy with a wink, but full of piss and vinegar. There's not a vocal turn on the record where she doesn't deliver. "Happy endings never interested me", she wails on "Swallow the Nights". The press might not abide her. The L Magazine named them one of the 'Top 5 bands to feature on your My Space page' and called them "the best thing to happen to new wave since skinny ties". A poll at Coolfer.com named them one of the top three NY bands beside Les Savvy Fav and LCD Soundsytem. The Hartford Courant described them as 'Ronnie Spector fronting X' while Vice Magazine said that singer Kali Holloway "has a killer voice that falls somewhere between Poly Styrene and Freda Payne". Everett True spouts in Plan B Magazine that they are "Delightful!" Green Pea-ness blog raves, "TOTALLY FUCKING INFECTIOUS - seriously, the Hanta virus should be so lucky as to have such an immediate and all-consuming effect as this".

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