It seemed to take me an age to track this damn thing down. Every distro in town (and quite a few out of town) told me I was too late, and I was beginning to wonder whether it was yet another piece of vinyl I’d left too late to buy. Kind of like Mary and Joseph going to all the inns in Bethlehem searching for a room for the night and finding nary a hint of luck. Except my story actually did happen.
Musically Cobra Kai were a snot-splatter of a whole host of largely deceased screamo greats. Saetia duking it out with a less sexually-fixated Blood Brothers perhaps? A polite doffing of the cap to early Song of Zarathustra. A whiff of sulphur and a shake of the ass that brings the Swing Kids to mind. Spazz, strangle, squeal. Lots of voices happen at the same time. Spoiled children throw their dolly out and rattle the bars of their playpens. Keyboards trickle in and out, adding to some really fine grooves and lyrics that tell tales of death-dealing robots.
Some of this is really fucking good. Like the bits where they lurch unerringly towards you like slime-faced children with cold, grasping hands at the end of skinny worm-riddled arms. Some, on the other hand, is merely serviceable without being special. Still, it’s easy to put up with the not-so-hot bits – especially when you know that just around the corner is some dead boy or girl looking to sneak a rat into your mouth.