The aurally unforgiving, raucously roarin’, sick, twisted, and sinister sounds of The B-Movie Rats are cacophonously comparable to all-out rock’n’roll Armageddon! It’s cranked-up, out-of-control, and violently frenzied; a hedonistic heapin’-helpin’ of belligerence, bravado, and robust recklessness; explosive, percussive, concussive, and wildly exuberant; Iggy And The Stooges of the now generation; an auditory disaster just waitin’ to happen! After only one intense and fiery listen, I’m spastic, speechless, and covered from head-to-toe in self-produced slobbery-slick drool. Take me to rehab, Ma, ‘cause my ears are lethally addicted to The B-Movie Rats, and I’m shamelessly enjoyin’ it waaaaay too much! This is better than the most ingratiating and tantalizing aspects of sex, booze, and rock’n’roll, I shit you not.