Sugarsmack

Tank Top City (Sire)
by Jamie Kiffel

Did someone invert Rob Zombie to expose his anima? Yes, the one with the candy-red skin, wet-lipped grin and slick, phallic tail. But this couldn’t be Zombie, because Zombie pulls that demon metal out of his gut. Sugarsmack could only be born of severely irritated ovaries. Singer (primordially yowling feline terror) Hope Nicholls’ larynx-tearing style is strongly reminiscent of The Runaways’ “Cherry Bomb” played through an eight-track player that had a speedball spilled in it. The government has begun injecting nuclear fuel into the reproductive organs of selected human females. If you don’t believe me, find another way to explain Nicholls’ guttural shriek, “Please allow me to introduce myself – I am the dick of the world.” Growling with gravel-streaked racing spinouts and exploding part by part at every turn, Sugarsmack is the perfect cure for pain: after backing over it several times, it will backfire on the spattered remnants, scrape them up, eat them, and spit them back in a sparking gob of engine oil, fresh from the veins.