James Brown would approve. Great bands in this genre are like unexpectedly stepping into folks gloriously having sex out in the open, but not in a creepy, ashamed, or pathetic way. It’s visceral: a celebration of lascivious noises and gasps for breath and moans that aren’t usually heard in general public. Like the BellRays and the Jewws, the Ghetto Ways don’t sound like a cheap porno put-on of “clap yer hands!” “boogie!” or “testify!” but of that undeniable full-body sweat music that’s wrung out of a dirty T-shirt at the end of a set and splattered onto the floor, of shattered glass and steel-bending guitars, of rolling train drums and bass, all accelerated by a lady vocalist who sounds like a gospel singer belting out songs of the damned. Like the finest of liquor, comes in a brown bag (but stenciled).
–todd (Wicked Singles)