My So-Called Band have come a long way, baby, since the nefariously negative review I belligerently bestowed upon them in the March/April 1998 issue of Flipside. Three years and a blazin' bucketful of audial attitude has made all the difference in the world: the sound is thicker, chunkier, meaner, meatier, and more raucously combustive (oh what the hell, I'll even delve into the record reviewer's musty old bag of over-used cliches and go so far as to say that this amped-out effort is fuller, richer, and more cacophonously cohesive than their first!). It's as if Cheap Trick were bein' mercilessly trampled to death by the New York Dolls, Nirvana, The Toadies, and Saint Vitus or SWA (or one of them there other guitar-grinding bands from SST's "Blasting Concept, Volume II" album), but with lighter, breathier vocalizations... yep, pure punky power-rock pummelings of pleasurable noise-makin' merriment! The guitar strafings are crunchy and frenetically cutting with a spine-snappin' sense of unstoppable urgency; the bass furiously rumbles like a napalm-laden supersonic jet whooshin' through the fiery skies of an impending apocalypse; the drums spastically stomp along like a rugby match between two opposing teams of viciously enraged dinosaurs; the vocals are high-spirited, fever-pitched, and jovially snotty. Man, I'm so gloriously damn glad that we receptively open-minded critics possess such tolerant all-encompassing ears that seem to never hold a grudge... otherwise, I might not have given My So-Called Band a second chance. This is too much of an aurally enticing jewel to routinely ignore, so I give it two thumbs up, a full-fledged erection shootin' straight to the moon, and a rowdy round of roguish Rog recommendations!
–guest (Yesha Inc.)