There’s something wonderfully intrusive about HFOS. Most bands that pretend to be dangerous just don’t have that intangible it. These guys do. Whenever I try to describe them I almost always – no, wait, always – wind up painting a picture similar to that of a toppled over short bus spilling out with whooping hebephrenics wearing their underpants on their heads and running naked into a Lutheran pot-luck picnic and smearing themselves with potato salad and defecating on bibles, etc, etc. Good, sturdy, dangerous fun. And the amazing thing is that this lovable quality comes across on record. Overall, Parallel Universe has a slightly less sociopathic Ramones-ish flavor to it than the full-on criminal lunacy of Idiotia Hyperactiva or Adulterer-Oriented Rock, but the unusually bent teeth of genuine twistedness are still sticking out of the mangy gums of this thing and even at low volume they still will chomp a Gary Coleman-sized divot out of your Lutheran ass.