Raw, snotty and more in your face than you probably want them to be, San Diego’s Mannekin Piss are the kind of pure adrenalin rush you’re hard pushed to find in this day and age. Think 60s garage rock by way of early 80s American hardcore with a dash of Germs-esque crash and burn about them and you’re part way there: three chords, slashes of rudimentary blues licks and the kind of snarl that should belong to some lost-cause seventeen-year-old deadbeat with a bone to pick, not someone who’s doubtless old enough to know better. Fucking punk, fucking rock and a damn sight better than most things in life – chances are I’d rather take the time to flip this record over one more time than save you from a housefire.
