This is the sweaty, gnarly spitball kind of garage punk that brandishes razor sharp guitar licks, bright organs, and snappy beats. But most importantly, Juanito Wau’s vocals are like a sneering, rabies-infected animal with froth around the lips. You’re wary of his bite, but you can get down to the disease. Because of my hyper minimal understanding of Spanish, Juanito’s voice is like a misshapen instrument—he slings slobbery hooks and adds a major glob of attitude. This is solid punk from España.
–Sean Arenas (Slovenly)