I like it when bands invent their own genre and so am leased that the StrayDogCafe place a sign in the rent window heralding the onset of 'Minimal Dirt rock' with an onslaught that shifts you somewhere left of centre...kind of like over beyond that thar Pluto way leftwards. Not to suggest that this is Hawkwind-esque space-rock at all. Far from it. It's a taut, teutonic tight-rope ride being flexed like a garotte by a ninja assassin on acid. Bluesy, even jazz inflected, but hold those horses, tight traveler...in the sense of the blues that's begged and pleaded to be beastialized and beaten to a raw, bloody pulp in some bizarre bdsm garden party attended by Big Black, The Fall (the vocals have something of Mr E. Smith's pissed Grand-dad gurgling stumbling blindly round the pub pretending to try to find his glasses so he can grope his nieces asses), The Birthday Party in slo-mo Dead Joe' mode, Butthole Surfers, The Pixies (voice gain, and twisted titles like 'Sweet Jebus'), Pere Ubu, even Bauhaus and Babes In Toyland, tho moreso Kat Bjelland's one off Crunt project (baby doll dresses lads? - 'I like your pretty dress' eh?), all conducted by Captain Beefheart's paintbrush, each bristle sending random cut up scattershot slivers of surreal tales foraging into the fray with PJ Harvey taking it all down for future reference.

Seemingly recorded live thru a mixing desk (in a scrap metal yard!) I can't help but think that their potentially cataclysmic wrecking ball blackouts would exude so much more Tiger tank tumult to equal the Albini should they invest some $$$$ in a ball-dropping future EP. However, it does add up to being the sum parts of their self-titled sound - minimal and dirty. More than, pretty damn unique, interesting...and, listen up - inventive.

www.straydogcafe.org

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