It’s muscular, it’s pissed off at Middle America, it’s melodic like old school 7 Seconds and Agent Orange, it’s full-bodied, it’s fucking pure hardcore.
Gone are the aggressive singing, the abrasive beats, the youthful rancor of old. They’ve been replaced by a mellower, subtler, wiser breed of Front 242.
Pure annoyance. The tracks don’t even share smooth continuity to make it sound as if they were attempting to build some kind of arc toward a larger conclusion.
This garage rock/art punk revivalist trio consists of a drummer, a singer (or wailer/whiner/whatever) and a guitarist. No bassist. They make due just fine.
The five tracks on this EP are drawn from the original Australian versions of the band’s early LPs, whose track listings were different from the American LPs.
Fly on the Wall introduces drummer Simon Wright, and the production shows concessions to the era’s production practices, but otherwise, it’s business as usual.