This apparent debut release for both bands, on Zodiac Killer Records (who seem to primarily put forth bicep-flexed bar punk…their flagship comp is titled Drink. Fight. Fuck.), comes, goes; is decent and boring in turn. Disguster put forth eight well-written, well-played, and ultimately flat songs. The blame is, in large part, on the production—crisp and mixed well, but lacking for it. It needs some gut, but the variety of gut they offer up isn’t exactly palatable. The sexual chauvinism/misogyny of the lyrics in Disguster’s half was the nail in the coffin for me. Choice cuts: “domestic violence means nothing to me,” “meet me on the other side of the glory hole,” “the more you try, the worse I treat you,” blah blah blah. I’ve got a younger brother, too. Summations later. Onward. Hitchhikers retain some dirt and gristle compared to Disguster and is less prone to chucking out Crüe-style pussy declaratives. Plus these guys have “Neckbone Stomp” on their half, the most bare bones song on the album, and rockingest for it. Sure, singer Jorge E. Disguster’s voice grates my brain-cheese; too much pruned strut for my taste, but my delicate sensibilities vis-à-vis objectification weren’t affected either. Ignoring everything I’ve said so far, ultimately, this split just doesn’t really stretch. Nothing is moved forward, tweaked, expounded, or refracted. It’s an album equivalent to horse blinders.
–Andrew Flanagan (Zodiac Killer)