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A buncha my Scandi-bound bros in Oslo and points South (North? I dunno where
Sweden is, I don’t have a map in front of me, ok?) were already sending out
red alerts before I ever heard a lick of the Carbs, and the fuckers weren’t
fooling. This record revs up- literally- with the roar of a big evil
machine, and then races, full-throttle, flames and smoke pourin’ outta the
sides and all, for the duration. It’s high-octane motorsleaze, fast n’ mean,
with a dash of Goldblade-style razzle dazzle, just to make sure yr good and
buried by the time they’re through. These Norwegian glam-slammers are like
Motorhead in really cool threads, or maybe the Backyard Babies trapped on
Motorhead’s bus goin’ 175 miles per hour. With song titles like “Burning
Rubber” and “Burnout” and “Fast Forward Rock n Roll” and “Highway of Rock n’
Roll”, it doesn’t take genius to figure out what these cats are up to, but
that’s really the whole fuckin’ point, ain’t it? Rock n’ roll isn’t for
geniuses, it’s for motherfuckers. And baby, this is some serious
motherfuckin’ rock n’ roll. Resistance is futile, man. Get it ‘fore it gets
you.
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