Ninety Pound Wuss

Short Hand Operation (Tooth & Nail)
by Tim Den

Just as the bio states, “you can never quite understand the direction (Ninety Pound Wuss) are headed but can only barely recognize where they’ve been.” Where they’ve been: old-school hardcore punk rock shows ala Black Flag and Meatmen, art school with Nation of Ulysses and Rites of Spring, a really fast car ride with a few Depeche Mode songs on the radio, and maybe a few too many acid trips listening to Mr. Bungle’s Disco Volante and Eyehategod (not a pretty picture, huh?). Where they’re headed: your guess is as good as mine. With all the aforementioned influences locked up in a tight, padded cell, Ninety Pound Wuss’ only problem is not “from which of these influences should we take” but “how the fuck do we use these influences to our advantage?” Instead of calming down the insane inside that tight, padded cell (and level-headedly figuring out a use for each one), Ninety Pound Wuss shoves sugar packets and cocaine down their throats and waits for a reaction. Boom! The subjects explode out of control. Result? Undisciplined chaos with no focus. One minute it’s feedback and synthesizers, the next (by way of awkward transitions, most of the time) it’s Huntington Beach circa ’83, spiked mohawks and all. Ninety Pound Wuss needs a tighter vision of their musical escapades and to make sense of it all. “If not, we will only get another album full of good yet unexplored ideas.”
(PO Box 12698 Seattle, WA 98111)