Really?  “Of A Revolution”?  Only American revolutions occasion arena rock.  Only Americans–really, only assholes–rechristen ordinary activities “revolutionary,” “oppositional,” “avant-garde,” “rebellious.”  Openly adept retailers O.A.R. overcame adverse Rockville’s oppression and resolutely obtained a reward.  OK.  Admirable, really.  Only:  actual revolutions overturn all respectability, overthrow apathetic Rotarians, order abject reductions of affluence.  “Revolution”!  Oneida augur revolution.  Oneida’s arty, rackety, often ambient, regrettably overlooked album Rated O aches revolution outta all recesses.  O.A.R., obviously, ain’t revoltin’ over ANYTHING.

Reviewers ought, admittedly, review.  Oh, all right.  Ought a reviewer’s opprobrious, absurd restrictions organize a review of any Record?  Only as radically, outrageously, and relentlessly (OUCH!) as Record offended and repulsed our afflicted reviewer.   So no, it’s not like it’s THAT bad.  Well-recorded, energetic.  If you’re a fan, you know you’ll dig it.  Saner individuals will hear fairly inoffensive, overwrought AOR.  Actually, only “Risen” and opener “Revisited” admit observation.  (Restrictions ahoy!)  Ominously, “Risen” apes–ostentatiously–reggae.  Also ominous?  “Revisited” apes–orangutanously–reggae.  Again.  Oh, reggae!  Absent origins–”ROOTS”–arrogant oafs renounce any ostensible Rasta authority.  Only responses:  apathy or rage.  Apprehend O.A.R. AYOR.