Serpentine death-throes straight from the mid-to-late ‘80s. Razor sharp, careening so close to the edge. Snaking bass, twitching guitar—I’m trying too hard to not say “post-punk,” because Rats In The Louvre would have fit any Masque bill. Surgically carving their own space (think Flesheaters or White Murder), their self-titled first endeavor is a giant piece of granite on your auditory lap; its sheer weight refusing to be ignored. Jerk back and forth and get cozy in the uncomfortableness. So, so, so good.
–Matt Seward (Water Under The Bridge, waterunderthebridgerecords.com)