BLACK FICTION
Groupies For Jesus (Death to Pop)
Black Fiction

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From the opening orgy of ‘Ballroom Blitz’ drums this miscreant mutation saddles up a buzz buzz and heads straight into the stench-strewn abyss of Lux Interiors PVC pants with all the latent lust of a newly hatched Human Fly touched by sweaty leather for the very first time...Taut jitterbugging jagged riffs played with a serious case o’ the evil, palpitatin’ shakes that’ll make ya dance like Nic Cage and Laura Dern in ‘Wild at Heart’ trying to entice Tina Turner into a threesome. Ayuss, peoples, Black Fiction have harnessed their earlier incarnations’ – The Strap-Ons – at times aimless probing and grunting around the black holes of songs and are gleefully pouring on us gunky grebobilly, sweating in mosh-pit saunas with chapters of Gaye Bykers while Guy McKnight weeps and wets himself in the corner at singer Ed’s lung exploding avalanche containing congealed in it’s vodka burnt mucus membranes Morrison, Jon Spencer, Ian Raspberry and an E. Smith-patented look of sour disdain as it salivates and slithers serpentine secreting equal parts portentous doom, psychotic erections and howls like Damien Omen’s shat hisself over the top of Groop Dogdrill’s speedsquat scumboogie. ‘Sold Your Rights’ is a horny-assed hip-shakin’ throbbing hunk o’ burning gristle that’d make Stiv Bators tie himself up and suck on some oranges in his grave. Like fellow Manchester maelstrom mavericks Jackie O they remind me of Silverfish when their ‘Scrambled Eggs EP’ gave you the strange sensation that a salvo of frenetic noisefucking can be good n’ sexy. It might actually make ya make it like Cage and Dern in ‘WAH’...Somewhere in LA a glass shatters and Lemmy shelters under the bed from the thunderous streams of bass ejaculations that link like spittle in a bums beard to ‘Stench’, an early Cramps back-alley switchblade ballad. It might not make you dig cool jackets like in ‘WAH’ (you should a’ready), but it IS the best thing I’ve heard outta this dirty old town for a good dog while, and certainly smokes like wild at heart lovebirds. ________________________________________________________

-Stu Gibson