Normally, I stand by my reviews 100%. But I’m not sure about this one. You see, last night I got drunk at a friend’s cabin and, somewhere in the blurry wee morning hours, I tottered off and fell into one of the nearby beds. When I awoke, I discovered that I had been sleeping in a queen-sized mouse litter box. There were little dark brown cigars lying about everywhere; on top of the blanket, between the sheets and, best of all, on the pillow that had been cradling my big soggy head for several hours. It may be psychosomatic, but right now I’m not sure I can feel my lower extremities. I’m almost sure that Hanta virus is now pooping out its own poisonous little cigars into my kidneys and brain right now. I’m probably a goner. But delirious as I might be, the review must go on. So here we go: Um, this band has got a retro band name and a ghoulish blood-dripping font and a skull that’s on fire – all of which, one would assume, is a sort of homage to the Misfits (back before they sported the egregious devilock/male-pattern baldness look and kicked out lame, mouseshit awful music.) So that’s cool by me. But this doesn’t really sound like the Misfits. Musically, the title pretty much sums it up: old school and proud of it. First time around I thought it sounded a bit workman-like, but now – with hanta virus lobbing molotov cocktails into my poor grey mush – it has a nice pissy urgent bounce to it. Does it sound like a slightly less meaty Sick Of It All or am I hallucinating? Fuck, I don’t know. Whatever, I like it. If I can somehow manage to push the Grim Reaper down the stairs and I’m not in a pine box in a few days, I’m gonna kick back and enjoy this thing properly.
–aphid ([email protected])