When a group makes music that strikes a chord with its listeners, an anxious anticipation overtakes the audience every couple of years, as they wait for a new collection of songs. The wait is finally over for Stavesacre fans . . . and this fan is grateful. This gratitude took a while to develop, though. Friction the band's debut, was an "instant like" for me. The follow-up, Absolutes, took awhile before its mellower songs, like "Sand Dollar," became favorites that stood up there with great tunes like "Threshold" and "At The Moment" I had to keep Speakeasy in my disc player for several days, pouring it into my ears until I was completely familiar with it. This is a good practice for any review, especially those noteworthy releases, but the real test comes long after the review has been printed. The true test is: Does it get played again strictly for enjoyment? It would've been a surprise if this release had not passed this test, but the quality herein makes this concern a no-worry situation. This album is showing the same promise of soon becoming a staple in this reviewer's musical diet. This band crafted its own identity right out of its starting blocks, leaving behind the stigma and trappings of the previous bands the individual players came from. Stavesacre has never been a band that's just chased riffs, trying to be heavy. This identity and direction towards melody was pronounced even more clearly on Absolutes and continues to push its way in Speakeasy. The band's melodic leanings are explored more fully here. The opening track, "Minuteman," for instance, takes a plodding tempo that allows the swelling bass sounds and solid drumming to breathe. Vocalist Mark Soloman shows restraint with passion, which surely departs from his delivery in either Crucified, Native Son, or Outer Circle material. What's great about a band like this is the fact that, even though they aren't trying to prove themselves in the muscular metal arena, they don't depart from heaviness when it's needed. When this band wants to rock, they blow you away. It doesn't hurt that they play tight together; and it's kinda fun to hear some punk influence creep in during fast songs like "You Know How It Is." The coup de grace of the album is cover of "Fascination Street," a tight tribute that bears the Stavesacre stamp as much as it does The Cure. While fitting more closely to creative bands like Orange 9mm, Stavesacre still has many similar characteristics to its emo cousins, without easily being lumped into that category. Little tiny chiming guitar pickings, like the ones in "Keep Waiting," make sure the connection isn't lost. Lyrically, the band seems to open up its heart for surgery, as well as those of its listeners, without hitting anyone over the head. Poets would appreciate the lyrics here, while the realist would not be offended either. The 9th track; which according to the advance disc title list, doesn't officially exist, states over and over that "No one knows the words we've spoken, the path we've chosen..." It's not listed as a track on the album, yet it serves as a 3-minute, 37-second declaration that seems to confide that the audience doesn't really know this artist, nor should it try to. As much as the audience does know, however, they have much reason to embrace this band.