Bloody, fleshy, mechanical sounds cranked through amps and instruments with primal, nauseating beauty. The self-disgust of mankind—200,000 years of displeasure—takes the form of annihilated garage punk. The day before I saw them play, the bass player had accidentally cracked a girl’s head open during their set. They were shaken up, but it was still barn burner of a set.
–Daryl Gussin (Self-released)