Detroit
rednecks (how does that work?) Bullcock belch up seven greasy nuggets of
white trash wisdom and speedy booze rock (standout: “I Think That Stripper
Really Likes Me”) that sound a whole lot like those dearly departed Motor
City cowboy killers, Peter Torque. Torque II, maybe. So ya get cowboy
hats, a fittingly phlegmy scumrock bellow, slippery punk n’ roll guitars,
the occasional groovy girl-group backing vocals courtesy the excellently
named Shantena, an even more occasional fat organ riff, songs about drugs
and trailer park wimmen, a dude dressed up like the devil, and the general
feeling that these fuckers like the Supersuckers and cheap American beer
even more than you do. Oh, and in the interest of literalism, a cover shot
of a pig’s swollen testicles. Yeehaw. _______________________________________________________
Detroit
rednecks (how does that work?) Bullcock belch up seven greasy nuggets of
white trash wisdom and speedy booze rock (standout: “I Think That Stripper
Really Likes Me”) that sound a whole lot like those dearly departed Motor
City cowboy killers, Peter Torque. Torque II, maybe. So ya get cowboy
hats, a fittingly phlegmy scumrock bellow, slippery punk n’ roll guitars,
the occasional groovy girl-group backing vocals courtesy the excellently
named Shantena, an even more occasional fat organ riff, songs about drugs
and trailer park wimmen, a dude dressed up like the devil, and the general
feeling that these fuckers like the Supersuckers and cheap American beer
even more than you do. Oh, and in the interest of literalism, a cover shot
of a pig’s swollen testicles. Yeehaw. _______________________________________________________