The incomparable Mr. Tim Kerr (o’ the Lord High Fixers) produced these bratty-soundin’ Louisiana R&B punkers. Right there, ya gotta know it’s gonna be good.
Tough guy Nine Pound Hammer redux, y’know, drunken swagger cockpunkrock with spaghetti western soundbites to punctuate Throttlefinger’s self-image as outlaws.
Their shit don’t lack for in-yo-face intensity, tho’ they do lack the ability to write a coupla numbers that don’t sound exactly like the six they just played.
’60s UK pop is a handy reference point, even when the Martinets are not self-consciously aping The Yardbirds or nudging the Troggs perhaps via the Milkshakes.
Southern four-piece focusing on funky rawk kinda like an updated Black Oak Arkansas. Not heavy, but rock’n’roll groovy. Gets better each time I hear it.
Short’n’sweet and then move on 1-2-3-4 to the next one in a buzzsaw guitar blur runnin’ thru the veins of Zeke/Electric Frankenstein/Migraines etc etc.
Part primal rockabilly straight outta the Charlie Feathers songbook, chuggy ZZ Top, hard luck country bass’n’drums, AC/DC with soul, and Link Wray tribute.
These Seattlites froth and curse like white trash, whiskey drinkin’, drug usin’, hard livin’, hard fuckin’, hot rod racin’, law hatin’, fight startin’ cretins.
This comp has no theme, it’s not a tribute/benefit. It’s just flat-out unadorned rock ‘n’ roll music, loud ‘n’ coarse ‘n’ white trash, like it’s supposed to be.