The Feelers are like going to a really good show, a strong bill. The first bands are pretty darn good. Good enough to sway along to, not mock, and it’s a pleasant, if not mind-blowing, evening. The bands are as good, or better, than the drinks you’re drinking. Then The Feelers come on, and it’s like someone tripped a booby trap. The chaos is precise, it’s directed right at the audience—all from above, out of nowhere, in an ambush—and all the songs are filled with lethal intent, delivered with certainty of muscle. Even if this 7”s is less vicious than the previous one on Contaminated, holy hell, if it’s not as great and still going directly for all the softest parts of the listeners’ bodies. I’m pleased as punch to find strains of hardcore and non-fancy garage snaking around the same stick again, biting from both sides. Supercharger and The Fix fans, hold hands against the enemy of complacency!