The Guilty Hearts not only kick out the jams, they’re good people. I see them all the time. “When you guys putting out a record?” I’d ask them. “Soon,” front man Leon Pescado would answer. “Well, gimme one when you do!” I’d tell him. And he finally did. And it’s great. Fuck, I knew it’d be good. See, I never ask people for their records. My rationale being, “Fuck it, I don’t wanna give someone I know a bad review when they personally give me the fucking turkey for free.” If I buy the vinyl, or it’s sent to me, no mercy, I’ll rip the fucker to shreds. So I threw this bad boy on and it fucking ruled. The one part Gories, two parts Gun Club hybrid of the Guilty Hearts live show is replicated with Johnnie Walker Black potency on this debut. But then again, what did I expect from a band containing Hermann Senac, original member of Blood on the Saddle, on drums? On second guitar, the Guilty Hearts have the fucking Charles Bukowski of the L.A. punk scene, Edgar Rodriguez. When not falling down or asking for shots of whiskey, Edgar keeps the beat going like only a reformed bassist could. That leaves Leon Pescado (a.k.a. El Niño, a.k.a. El Pescado de Gato) on vocals and slide guitar. Leon’s a shit-hot guitar player; coming up with effortless chord progressions is as easy as a twelve-year-old buying booze in Germany for Pescado. See, I knew all this going into the record. I was really keeping an ear open for production. The Greg Cartwright records these boys listen to obsessively had its influence; The Guilty Hearts is gloriously lo-fi. Fans of In the Red Records don’t wanna sleep on this. Good job, dudes.
–ryan (Voodoo Rhythm)