The band refers to its music as 'nerd rock,' but that fails to capture the depth and scope of Three Day Stubble's strangeness. The impression begins with the band's attire, such as it is: eye -bendingly bad combinations of thrift store relics from the 70's that make David Lindley look like a GQ model. The nerd reference might strike closer with the musicians' earnestly goofy expressions. Still these guys make Bill Murray's ultimate "Saturday Night Live" nerd, Todd de la Muca, seem socially adept.

Musically Three Day Stubble is similarly unique. Try to imagine a hybrid of Captain Beefheart's advanced rythmic/harmonic weaves, the naivete and inadvertant dadaisms of the Shaggs, and the ingratiating enthusiasm of, say, Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Still not close.

Ungainly, incomprehensible, disturbing, and charming all at once, the music might be an elaborate aesthetic joke, or it might be a kind of radical schlock therapy (rumor has it that the band members met in addiction therapy). Whatever it is, there are swift undercurrents of fear, joy, confusion, and desperate besieged innocence: Far beyond nerd rock, Three Day Stubble is the sound of nice boys snapping under the strain· - The Oregonian

From suburban Houston it came, sporting more pomade than the entire cast of Grease; glasses that made Woody Allen look hip; and more polyester than a dozen lame 70's revival acts (only this stuff was never cool). It sang psychotically mindless ditties like "Be Nice" in which we are reminded to "Be nice to the people who want you to touch their heads," and "Figshta," the story of a girl who fell in with the wrong crowd, joined a cult and changed her name to Figshta. Musically akin to a lobotomized Captain Beefheart, this was high surrealism in nerd-rock clothing, and it grinned an idiotic grin as it giggled aloud its infernal name: Three Day Stubble. - LA Weekly