Labels: Drag City
Review by: Alex Deller
Apparently this lot are rather a hoot live, by all accounts sounding like a three-man circus act that may or may not wow its gape-mouthed audiences with pyromaniacal excesses, slippery spit-lubed mic-buggery and fabulous rainbows of shimmering sex piss shot streaming from Ami Shalev’s subhuman glans. Weird, then, how utterly tame and pedestrian their psych-tinged rock n’ roll sounds when set to plastic, the six songs pootling timidly along like they wouldn’t say boo to a goose and causing anyone yearning for even a jot of the aforementioned excitement to wonder what all the bloody fuss was about.