“Listen to Brainbombs,” exalts the insert that comes with this grubby lump of vinyl. It also features an unpleasant cockshot, so if you’re not already a Brainbombs fan it might be hard to know whether or not to trust the band’s judgement. My advice would be do, and to give their take on nightmarish repeato-rock a bash as well once you’re done. The slurping, hungover riffs roll ceaselessly, providing a woozy, overmedicated backdrop for grumblingly intoned paeans to the dubious joys of being pensionable (hint: bodily functions are mentioned a lot; the phrase ‘waxy load’ is utilised). Off-key trumpet honks provide an added layer of nausea, wailing incessantly and putting you off your blank-eyed nod more effectively than the shrill whine of feedback ever could. Despite the unpleasantness of it all it never wholly replicates the true gutter-dwelling sickness of Brainbombs but, frankly, I’m fairly sure the band would agree. Still, if you have a thing for that band I’ve mentioned three times already, enjoy shit like RSO or the God Bullies and are stumbling idiotically towards your dotage without a worry in the world then give this one a whirl. Actually, if you fulfil the last criterion maybe don’t – Nearly Dead’ll just scare the hell out of you, and by now it’s way too late to start planning for retirement. Ignorance is bliss and all that, eh?
