Someone has created the perfect listen-while-driving album. It is called Days. It is the sophomore effort of Real Estate.
Our music critic swoons:

Real Estate doesn’t share Bruce Springsteen’s zeal or Zip code, but few  contemporary rock albums feel as American as “Days.” This music comes from a  place where Exxon station canopies glow like beacons in the boredom. The band  reinforces that sense of bittersweet stasis with cyclical riffs that resemble  R.E.M. (or the Clean, or Built to Spill, or even Fleetwood Mac), walking lazy  laps around the track behind the high school. There are some jangled chords,  some bright guitar leads and a rhythm section that operates somewhere between  shy and proud.

Someone has created the perfect listen-while-driving album. It is called Days. It is the sophomore effort of Real Estate.

Our music critic swoons:

Real Estate doesn’t share Bruce Springsteen’s zeal or Zip code, but few contemporary rock albums feel as American as “Days.” This music comes from a place where Exxon station canopies glow like beacons in the boredom. The band reinforces that sense of bittersweet stasis with cyclical riffs that resemble R.E.M. (or the Clean, or Built to Spill, or even Fleetwood Mac), walking lazy laps around the track behind the high school. There are some jangled chords, some bright guitar leads and a rhythm section that operates somewhere between shy and proud.