Like a rusty hanger through your earhole, The Peppermints scrape up some good damage. The lady who sings on this sounds like she’s being stabbed in a B-movie all the way through it, which I think is pretty awesome. Think of the Cows without the horns, humping to the most interesting drumming of the Screamers and then corner it while rubbing Fleshies in its face and sniffing some soiled underpants. It’s where art meets fuck meets shit feedback fest. It’s a wild ride, not so good for traffic unless you’re looking for a fight, but great for clearing out a room. Made by, I suspect, people who know how to handle their drugs. Oddly endearing. Suggested.