RIFFS, THE: Dead End Dream: CD

These scruffy, leather-jacketed musical marauders are the ultimate balls-out definition of crazed punkrock belligerence in all of its vicious flesh-slashing glory. The songs are structurally similar to the snotty pogo-bouncin’ madness of the Sex Pistols heavily loaded with the cocky, guitar-struttin’ swagger of Johnny Thunders and the trashy gutter-roamin’ auditory demeanor of the Dead Boys. The coarse urban-jungle lyrics brusquely conjure decadent inner city images of trash-strewn back-alleys inhabited by pimps, prostitutes, and drug-addled razor-wielding common criminals. “Dead End Dream” is the sick’n’sordid sound of hopelessness, despair, boredom, addiction, and unsavory nocturnal unruliness. It’s the cacophonous clamor of an indignant generation of youth outta their heads on amphetamines, ale, and loutish insolent misbehavior. Definitely my kinda incorrigible sonic sleaziness! –Roger Moser, Jr.

 –guest (TKO)