One of those records you know is going to be good, just from looking at the cover (this one being a line drawing of a left hand with an eye in the middle, goop, or something of that nature flying off, and then there are these things at the bottom like… I have no clue, but they’re tube-like and dangling there with drops of either blood, or water, or both around them). Sure enough, as soon as the needle glides into the groove some urgent and revved-up punk rock comes blasting out of the speakers. Belligerent, rabid dog style vocals, spitting out the words in rapid fire with slobber all over the mic and surrounding area. Then there’s the vile-sounding guitar scratching out chords and putridity over the bass and drums that sound like they’re hanging on by a thread. I’m liking the insolent attitude of “Kennel Cough,” the wound-up energy of “Smokin’ Crack with Jeff,” and the fact that after listening to “Bushwick Boomerang,” complete with its Dick Dale style surf guitar solo kind of thing in the middle, I go around singing, “Like a boomerang! Like a boomerang!” doing my best impersonation of the vocals, while those around me look at me as though I’m some sort of dipshit. But who cares, this is rock’n’roll babs. So much good stuff on this album.
–M.Avrg (Snot Releases, snotreleases.com)