An album as black and negative and stark and curiously compelling as its cover art.
The whole record bristles with sheetmetal rust guitars, rendered thin and spare, every instrument sounding unnatural, pulled out of shape by production; not so much overproduced as underproduced; underproduced as in undernourished, as in underdeveloped, like a photograph, handled wrong and rendered wrong. It's music reanimated, like psychobilly or surf rock revival, with the morbid cinematic leanings to match, taken screeching to its grave.
It's like Gang of Four met Big Black and The Meteors in a dark alley and came out meaner than its assailants, sounding like The Giddy Motors' fractured father, blood in teeth smiling without cheer.
And then, just at the end, Board the Bus takes everything 3 levels further, revealing the first 9 songs to merely be the means to a terrifying end. One of the most seethingly unsettling songs I've heard in a long time.
The overall effect is brutal and brilliant, admirable and utterly unenjoyable 3.5/5
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