Jeff Potter takes his cue from Jerry Lee Lewis, pounding the ivories and singing in a voice that could either testify for the Lord or send hundreds of teenage souls to the deepest pits of hell. This is the devil’s rock at its most primitive and if Potter had been around fifty years ago he would probably be considered a threat to the social order on par with The Killer. The album’s title track, interestingly enough, is this work’s biggest departure. Gone are the hammered piano keys, replaced by—get this—a drum solo.
–eric (Raucous)