Ignoring anything resembling diversity within or between songs, Sinister just plain play mind-numbingly fast, trudgingly slow, and thoroughly demonic songs.
I scrambled to pack. Pirate shirt, leather pants, aspirin, condoms. Forget a notebook. After so much drinking, I’d couldn’t hold a pen straight. Tape recorder.
Sgt. Pepper meets Lenny Kravitz for a drink in San Francisco. They cop some greenbud on Haight Street and, after rolling a fatty, go out cruising for girls.
Still has the hyperspeed attack, with cheesy lyrics about bleeding, bludgeoning, evil, and madness, mixed in with Judas-Priest-recorded-in-a-sewer-pipe metal.
If the music isn’t important, they should make more of the stage show. If the stage show isn’t important, then they should add more samples, loops, whatever…
They were loud, rambunctious, and wonderfully satirical, even self-effacing. It takes a lot of guts to make fun of yourself and still pull off a great show.