They catchy, popacid punk tunes and slur the instruments for maximum tweak. The album that the Butthole Surfers should have made before going industrial.
It’s loud, and it’s got a heavy groove. When you first put it on, you may think it’s forgettable. But they get to you, snaring your attention repeatedly.
Zero melody, sloppy crunch guitars that chug punk rock riffs like a ’78 Trans Am whose engine is still going strong long after the frame has rusted out.