May 30, 2014

There are several modes to Muscle Shoals, Alabama’s Nightmare Boyzzz, all of them enjoyable. The mellow burners sound akin to the sunshine-pop of Thee Makeout Party and Audacity, if those dudes were bikers (like stylish, mechanic-smart Rat Fink bikers; not kill-you, nasty-drug-habit, stab-you bikers). The faster songs are reminiscent of Love Songs for the Retarded-era Queers. (A record I have a soft spot for.) Think Beach Boys for deviants with bad tattoos, unafraid of dirty public bathroom sex. In song. So fuckin’ catchy. With repeated listens, there are microbes on the cutting board at this picnic—Big Star, T Rex, and Rise Up Howlin’ Werewolf are all minced and condimented on top of a hot dog. The catsup even spells “fuck yeah!” 

 –todd (Slovenly)