Columbia, MO’s Bald Eagle is a whole lot of things. However, to their core they are a rock band: A balls to walls screaming, wailing party band. Seriously, how can you not be with song titles like: “Wind Up Dead in a Camero,” “Turbo Sex-O-Phonic Delight, and |”Coming Down the Mountain, Gypsy Lover”? While the party band moniker might sound like a semi-derogatory classification, Bald Eagle’s brand of rawk is the type that should pull together groups of people who otherwise wouldn’t give each other the fucking time of day. Not to be overtly provincial to the hometown, but in St. Louis back when, Fragile Porcelain Mice and The Urge (before they went down the major label shitter) were bands that brought punk and frat boy together in one venue. Their songs had that crossover appeal, but didn’t sacrifice their music in favor of commercial mediocrity. While Bald Eagle’s Bacon and Eggs, Dear does not resemble those acts in the slightest, they have that same kind of air about them. With Bald Eagle, you have a hell raising combination of Tiger Style Records-era Rye Coalition, The Jesus Lizard, and Chicago’s Cougars. Bacon and Eggs, Dear is a freak out, fuck yeah, brand of record. Buy! Buy! Buy! – David Lichius (The Daily Copper, 2006)