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. ________________________________________________________
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.