Greg Pettix, the lead singer of both the dearly departed Weird Lovemakers and Knockout Pills, takes the vocal duties of another band that harnesses much of the anxiety-ridden carburetion of Scared Of Chaka. Hardcore? Garage? Both. Neither. Fans of his previous bands won’t be disappointed. There’s the big record collection feel to the music—from The Animals to The Zombies to carnival rides to salsa—and a great movie monster meets historical figure meets sexual situation slant to the lyrics (everything from C.H.U.D. to Descartes to an apache lighting his farts and killing Custer’s family to refrains of “my dick’s on fire”). Greg even put a hand-written note stating that there’s a “rock opera”—that could easily fit on a 7”—in the middle of it all. (It comes across like a PBS special on the old West, riddled with LSD, with a “golden age” porn director narrating the action.) I love Greg’s voice. It’s intrusive. You can’t put this CD on and have it bubble in the background because even when it’s quiet, it cuts. Greg’s screechy, itchy, adolescent-fascination-in-a-grown-man’s bellow cuts through any idle conversation and the band goes full throttle through all twenty-three tracks. Not one song ever gets much over a minute and a half. Yay to that. Understandably, I have a feeling a lot of people will be turned off by the name… but I’m definitely standing by the music because, frankly, this is awesome.