Some people might say that this ain´t music but a biological weapon of mass destruction set to noise. Yeah shithead, you´re absolutely right, they are a blood splattered massacre driven forward by a deafening bass guitar that really can´t be described as an instrument but rather like the sound of grenades dropping into your trimmed dooryard and fronted by a rabid madman puking out salves of hate instead of singing.
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Taken By Surprise Records / La-Ti-Da Records
Welcome back on board all you drunks, freaks and faggots ! Wave goodbye to your pubes and dreams ´cause you´ve checked in for a bumpy flight to Party City, homebase of MANIAC and departure point for a Tour De Punk unicycle ride nonchalantly shot from the hip with an almost brassy off pat level of sleaziness and ease.
Tune in for a middle finger Snot Pop Operetta with cubistic spandex trousers rebuilding the glorious history of professional beer can stabbing and the frivolous power of the walrus moustache movement created by four visionaries (whose past in rowdy rockers like CUTE LEPERS, SUSPECT PARTS, CLOROX GIRLS, LA DRUGZ, GIRLS or DEADLY WEAPONS could and should already fill shelves in the epicurean section of human history alone) who set forth to kick that damn C-Major Scale in it´s boring ass and create a final musical monument of blood, bogy and banana splits instead.
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