Last time I listened to this I hadn’t slept much and I’d had too much coffee and I was cranky as hell and my left eye was twitching uncontrollably and I had the shits and not too long previous I’d walked into a cupboard door. The whole scene was fairly rum but I was intent on pushing through and getting stuff done. Somehow the maniacal jabbering of ‘Glad To Be Forgotten’ slotted neatly into the situation, and rather than making me want to heave my turntable out the window in a fit of panicked childish fury it added to the sense of productive mania I’d wound myself into. Long story short, it’s that kind of record with that kind of sound: snotty and incessant with bargain synths, chewed-tinfoil melodies and an utterly relentless sense of forward motion. Things’re pitched somewhere between Devo, Jay Reatard, The Ramones and The Dead Boys, which means while there’s a will to test, prod, aggravate and antagonise, they also have a barely-disguised knack for grinding out golden song after golden song.
