Labels: Pigs 1201
Review by: Alex Deller
This is weird. Weird but I like it. It’s some kind of wurbling jazz lurch that stumbles groggily around, taking in Beefheart, the Big Boys and the MC5 to form a stupid clatterfuck of sound that’s all wailing sax, awkward guitar belch and yawped, megaphonic vocals drawn up deep from the stomach pit. Gauging the predominant mood of things is a bit of a tricky one: the band’re clearly having a whale of a time clumping this stuff out, but there’s also a strangely unpleasant edge to proceedings that suggests things could easily turn into a seething fistfight if the wrong drink got spilt. Not for everyone and that’s for certain, but if you’ve got a jagged, saxamaphone-shaped hole in your life right now this horrible lot may just fit the bill.