'If your neighbours don't love you that's their problem...'

The crunching 'High Voltage' frying 'Wild Flower' riff that gets the gasoline flowing on this short, sweet, lucky seven-tracker contains all the resilient hard ass tough luck shrug that you gotta have when you keep Rockin' that Roll. 'Given Up Giving Up' lays waste to great swathes of your brain like an apocalypso now napalm blast with dirty back-alley guitars and fag-lighting vocals all held together tight n' taut with lashings of hairgrease and tattoo ink. Not for these down at heel fuckers the woe is me dross of the indie whinging brigade. Nope, these brigadiers of brawny big spirited big hearted brothel creepin rawkers, know exactly the way it goes and corral all life's downs and downs into some sublime spirals of cheap sunglasses wearing Rock'n'Roll. 'Omega Male' is a sweet-toothed Queen of the Stone Age on a blind date with 'Bunglalow Bill' kicking it's way from the bottom of the garbage pile with a ghostgaunt inducing stomp that'd've charged the light brigade safe thru to the other side.

'Round The World' harks back most to the Yo's first rekkid, guitars sharp enuff to cut thru congealed sulphate, shape it into lines for the Beach Boys to snort off Ace Frehley's first solo album and speed right back to whoevers baby they bloody well choose thankyar sir, like '1000 Miles From Me', a jetset jitterbug jaunt, 'AA Holiday' is a rampant Red Stripe-wrecked ska-barB, not burnt but definitely smoked, and like The Makers sang is 'as hungry as Elvis, baby, in 1975'.