Imagine going to a club to see a band and the place is completely spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere. You head to the bathroom and it’s as sterile and antiseptic as an operating room. The bar is polished so that you can see your reflection in it and every time you pick up your drink the bartender is there to wipe up the ring of moisture your beer bottle left. The place is so clean that it lacks character. That’s how I’d describe the production of Jett Black’s Dead Town. It’s like there was a button in the studio marked “removes all excitement, energy, and soul,” and the band pointed to it and said, “Let’s push THAT one!” Technically, they play leads without missing a note, stylistically, they lean heavily towards “rawk,” which the do well. But, I’ll be damned if I have to hear any more of it. They sing songs about drinkin’ whiskey and screwin’ women, but the only one who gets fucked here is the listener.