Few remember when Goth was dark and deadly, a fearsome music to be proud of. Noble, anthemic songs that communicate a brooding desire, a vague desperation.
Boss Hog lies somewhere between Jon Spencer’s former and current projects, Pussy Galore, and the Blues Explosion’s fuzz-tone Stones-flavored funk grooves.
Tight drumming keeps this together. Other than that, it’s your basic fast goof punk. A little better than run-of-the-mill, as far as inconsequential 7″ers go.
As soon as the needle hits the vinyl it’s an all out assault on the boundaries of rock as we know it, spitting out incoherent lyrics with earsplitting energy.
An industrial band straight out of the late ’80s, a deviant of the Front 24/Skinny Puppy era before Wax Trax! bands learned to shut up and play their guitars.
Singer was a fairy queen complete with gauzy wings and wand. She made gifts to the house of toy instruments and odd curios and asked the crowd to play along.
Songs were tightly sewn together by throbbing bass and frantic rhythms. Energy. Really a fine band. But the singer sounded like Joan Baez on methedrine.