Kill-A-Watts: Wisconsonite juvenile delinquency has never sounded better. Biting, blood and hickey-drawing guitars, screams and screeches that could etch a very pretty fuck you into polished steel, drums that could blast holes in walls, and two songs – “1977 Sunglasses” and “X-Ray-Dead-Woman” – that jab quicker than knife wounds in a chicks-gone-bad-in-prison B-movie. Sweet J.A.P.: perhaps one of ten bands that wouldn’t be shamed by the Kill-A-Watts and still be in the musical ballpark, eat fire and blow it all back through the speakers. Donde esta my eyebrows? Burned the fuck off. Much like how Scared of Chaka made the line between punk and garage irrelevant, I dare say Sweet J.A.P. are broadening that horizon while keeping it in the red. Such precisely sloppy assurance and danger-kicking rarely reached this high, this consistently. Awesome split.
–todd (Nice and Neat)