Children 18:3 – A Riot of Sound That Sticks With You
Alright, let me tell ya about Children 18:3, the self-titled debut album from this punky little band outta the US. Released back in 2008 on Tooth & Nail Records, it’s one of those albums that sneaks up on you. At first glance, it feels like your typical pop-rock/post-punk mashup, but then—boom—it hits you with something raw and real. And trust me, once it sinks its teeth in, it doesn’t let go.
The genres here are kinda all over the place—punk, post-punk, indie rock—but somehow they blend into this chaotic yet cohesive sound. It’s messy in the best way possible, like scribbling outside the lines because who cares about rules anyway? The production is tight enough to keep things polished but loose enough to feel alive. Steve Wilson (producer extraordinaire) clearly had his hands full, but he nailed it. Hats off to him for making every track punchy without losing its soul.
Now, I gotta talk about two tracks that stuck with me: “Mock the Music” and “Homemade Valentine.” Let’s start with “Mock the Music.” This song kicks the door down right from the get-go. It’s got this snarling energy, like a pissed-off teenager yelling at the world through their bedroom window. The lyrics are sharp, almost bitter, calling out fake crowds and hollow applause. But there’s also this weird sense of hope buried underneath it all, like maybe mocking the music means reclaiming it. David Hostetter Jr.’s guitar work is killer here, slicing through the mix like a rusty knife. Honestly, whenever I hear this track, I wanna grab a mic and scream along—even if my neighbors hate me for it.
Then there’s “Homemade Valentine,” which flips the vibe completely. Where “Mock the Music” is loud and aggressive, this one is softer, sweeter, almost nostalgic. LeeMarie Hostetter’s vocals shine here; she sounds vulnerable but strong, like she’s letting you peek behind her walls just for a second. The melody feels warm, like an old sweater you forgot you loved until you put it back on. There’s this bittersweet undertone too, like remembering someone you used to care about but can’t quite reach anymore. Every time I listen to it, I find myself staring out the window, lost in thought. It’s not flashy or in-your-face, but damn does it stick with you.
What really makes this album special, though, isn’t just the music—it’s the people behind it. You can tell everyone involved poured their hearts into this project. From Jeff Carver’s A&R wizardry to Troy Glessner’s mastering magic, nothing feels phoned in. Even the artwork, handled by Jordan Butcher and the band themselves, has this DIY charm that matches the scrappy spirit of the songs.
Looking back, Children 18:3 feels like a snapshot of a moment in time—a bunch of kids figuring themselves out while making some seriously good noise. It’s not perfect, and honestly, I don’t think it wants to be. That’s what makes it so relatable. Life ain’t perfect either, right?
Here’s the thing: listening to this album feels like finding an old Polaroid in your pocket years later. You didn’t expect it, but suddenly you’re flooded with memories and emotions you thought you’d forgotten. So yeah, it’s more than just music—it’s a feeling. Or maybe...just maybe...it’s proof that balloons really do make everything better.
