Jam-packed with reviews of outré shit. Care to know where you can get comics that feature angels pissing on vomiting clowns? Well, that would be on page 60.
When women or turtles aren’t falling into John’s lap, he’s got someone out to get him. Appearances by Death, a very cute two-headed chick, and salty wit.
The anthems don’t sound dumbed down, the goofy butt-wiggling punk doesn’t sound contrived, the tenderness isn’t forced, and the party-hearty yahoo isn’t ironic.
These guys drive every cliché into the ground, but there are hints at actual songwriting here, and the vocalist might even qualify as a singer in another year.
Their hearts are in the right place (old school punk), but it’s hard to tell at a pass if this is worth the time. Fast and frantic punk, vaguely political.