They will hurt you. They will break your heart. They will trample your feelings with three chords and dump you via text message just to see your eyeliner run. Maybe you missed them when they opened for Holly Golightly at the Creepy Crawl in August. Maybe you're crazy. The pop is so sweet you'll cramp at Jason's first lovestruck blow to his kit, keel at Karen and Cory's harmonies so affected they sound like the holy spawn of a one-night stand between Susanna Hoffs and Billy Childish. You'll crush on Amanduh's shoegazer bass, so perfectly unmoved she is by the inevitable black and white of her tone. Though their life as a band has been brief -- together just over a year now -- it has been fruitful. You can't buy them (save for a lone fluorescent pink-sleeved split 45 that's available at Vintage Vinyl), but you can see them, and see them you should.