With such “powerhouse” affiliations (A.F.I., Tim Armstrong, Rob Peltier of the Quakes, nourishment from the Hellbillys and across‑the‑board references to early Misfits and the Rev), only the most bored and bitter of devotees could wonder why this shouldn’t be the American psychobilly “IT” band of the millennium. Although the album gets off to a rollicking good start like any great Klingonz album would, Nick 13’s (insert hysterical bobby soxer screams here) mellifluous voice, albeit strong and unwavering, doesn’t always convince or make a concave impression through the blistering muck of a nimbly‑played stand‑up and rip‑roarin’ guitar, all done up in proper style. But there is redemption ‑ Nick’s voice shines like a Gibbous moon late for Halloween on the more country‑oriented material (akin to Ness sans battle scars) and may send chills through the spines of any pretty‑boy lovin’ Bang Bang sissy. Caveat emptor: proceed with caution and a grain of salt. The hoodoo‑voodoo setting may bore you to death and that ain’t how the properly evil die.