Paranoia! Suspicion! The curled lip of the eternal outsider! These are the glinting tools wielded by the Vicious, another gang of snotty 70s-inspired Swedes momentarily pushing their nihilistic daydreams and huffed-out gluebags aside in favour of some hellraising punk rock. These short n’ sour numbers go briskly about their business with sharp, simple chords and the kind of obnoxious nasal sneer whose owner you either want to punch in the mouth or fall in love with, offering up selfish two-and-a-half minute grindings of emaciated hips before upping, leaving and slamming the door behind them without so much as a nod of recognition.
