|MUSK photo by Mark Murrmann|
Going to places that are swampier and more cursed than even the Scientists Mk II ever fathomed with a voice resembling Greg Oblivian raised next to a tire fire by wolves songs like nail gun to the nail temple pound of "Grandier", the "I'll show what being a pyscho is really all about you beauty parlor ninnies" psychobilly murder spree of "Funny Feeling" and "Knuckle Dust" along with "Combat Shock II" resembling the tasty waves of surf music, if those waves were made of napalm, detonate like the band is barreling through a minefield drunk on Everclear (the 190 proof rectified spirit that has prohibited for sale in 13 states. Not the band that plays its hits from the 90's at state fairs and small market summer festivals) and adrenaline.
The jangle on "Slow Bummer" may start off feeling like a drive through the hilly farmlands of the county but the sight of of shotgun bullet riddled road signs quickly note that the hayseeds are restless and, with twilight rolling in hoping the car doesn't break down. The last ride the record takes you on is "Black Ice." As the fuzz and hammering beat decays into darkness don't be surprised if the final stop is plunging into molten lava.
A word to the wise is to keep a fire extinguisher close to your stereo when this album is on.