While horrorpopbillybop bands seem to be springing up with the speed of a set of Sunset Strip SuperStrat shred-happy twats in 1987, armed with the requisite Rock’n’Roll accoutrements right off the rails for these times of reignited Cold War, Resurex actually have a pedigree – or one worth mentioning – and mercilessly rip the still hot and sticky entrails of their previous outfits out and into this flawless though perfectly fucked up creation in a sacrificial supper that’d cause the Incas to ask their leaders a thing or two. Head undead Daniel DeLeon has a rap sheet like Max Cady from ‘Cape Fear’, having dodged mortality and dented morality in The Insaints, The Deep Eynde and 45 Grave’s demure Dinah Cancer, while the other three have all played, or play, in the abhorrent Tiger Army, which can safely be forgotten, and Psychobilly princes of grave delinquency Nekromantix, who are also greased by guitarist Troy Russel’s  pincer-precise arachnid artillery of riffs with rigorous, mortifying resplendence.

So it’s not too much of a shock from under the stairs that these guys play the shit outta – and the skin off - this debut leaving no grave-bound g-chord un-garrotted. Keeping control of their aberrant creations where many attempt to proffer their spineless spirits for possession by the vengeful beast of Psychobilly past, engaging in an onanistic overload of zombie-lovin’ clichés that should be left dismembered behind a dungeon door, never mind the cutting room floor. Sutured together tight and sweet with slivers of sinews, skin scrapings and tendons any comer is crucified with quick-draw comb action such as ‘Suicide’ and the mall-rat massacre of ‘Prisoner of Love’ where the guitars and drums skirt kerb edges so fast and close they career past like runaway trains in old silent movies with the engineer tap-dancing on dimes minted from the breast-bones of business class passengers to purgatory. ‘Dia De Los Muertos’ combines the schizoid confusion of the dead (also realising that this can apply equally equably to the living too!), merging the frenetic casket-crashing rampages with a growling Link Wray revolving-revola then on one of the other hands, or legs, littering the studio / laboratory, dashing off with dust from inside their pants some meteoric stompin’ Cramps vying with Vince Ray in velvet goldmines on ‘Devil Woman From Outerspace’ and the even more outrageously hard boppin’ neo-rockabilly quarry quakin’ ‘Don’t Mess With Me’. Popadelic purity tolls bells as presses roll on ‘Rezurect Me’, where the B-Movie Psycho caricatures are savagely cast aside to explore an arid romance of squandered words that could’ve been said from inside a coffin whilst alive and aching.

Well, you know we’re all hams at heart, so it’s apt that in closing our hero drags his disintegrating hide alongside his ‘Zombie Girl’ across state lines long dishevelled and damned to desolation, descending into a miasmic mist that clears as opener ‘Black Rose’ appears like a scar on the horizon. __________________________________________________

- Stu Gibson