Ghoultown rambunctiously and skillfully blast a brawny swaggerin’ wallop of tornadic Texas-style rockabilly fury, gothic whiskey-drenched country’n’western craziness, and thundering “High Plains Drifter”-inspired deathrock rowdiness. It’s a demonic musical mishmash of ghoulishly hypnotic vocals, damnatory hellfire-and-brimstone guitar savagery, hair-raisin’ spine-tinglin’ thrusts of crosstie-splittin’ locomotive bass rumblings, rampagin’ Injuns-on-the-warpath tomahawk-thumpin’ drumming madness, lonely and sorrowful campfire’n’chuckwagon harmonica moans, and somber solitary TexMex trumpet/trombone wailings... I shit you not, compadres, it all sounds uncannily like The Damned, T.S.O.L., The Misfits, and Johnny Cash frenziedly dukin’ it out with Marshal Matt Dillon and his trusty ol’ inbred sidekick, Festus Hagen, in The Long Branch Saloon on a dark apocalyptic day on the set of “Gunsmoke.” Ghoultown sonically conjure ghostly images of the tumbleweed-strewn wickedness of America’s untamed Old West: vampiric prairie nomads aimlessly wandering through the vast weatherbeaten expanses of wayward eternal damnation; dust-enshrouded outlaw apparitions gearin’-up for a gunslingin’ showdown at sunset; the lone haunting howl of a coyote surrounded by the seductive misery of moonlit tombstone shadows; barbed wire and endless miles of crumbled decayin’ cattle bones. Yeeeeeehaw, motherfuckers, these are the true tequila-guzzlin’ sounds of Texxxas!
–Roger Moser Jr. (Angry Planet)