“Hey baby, feeling low? Grab a shovel, c’mon let’s go…”
– ‘Grave Digger’

Horror punk pop splicings can often fall so foul of even the most fundamental rules of physics and phantasmagory, ending up like the failed experiments of the first plastic surgeons that must’ve caused all sorts of uneven lumps and exploding bruises. As false, feckless and fake as a severed hand in ‘Evil Dead 3’ and sounding like they’re made of nuts and bolts that wouldn’t even hold Frankenstein’s toes in let alone his neck or an IKEA shelf many of this ilk fail even before the first fling past witching hour. So bless these Finnish ghoul-popper gurls who arrive with phasers, fingers and flickering tongues set to scalpel caress and a set of sweet campily-crypt-alarious songs using all things dark as talismanic fetishes, such as The Damned, god-damned and Go-Go’s gone and far out in the belfry damned ‘Grave Digger’ and ‘Wolf Man’, all sang with a coy cutesiness yet chest-pounding drama that makes even the most male amongst us look down expecting to see Hammer Horror-style heaving cleavage. Fatally well formed this set of Scandinavian sirens belie their aura of all-knowing vamps with broken-hearts for centuries dead Counts, Kings and distant species to entice songs from bacteria in underground bunkers to likewise enchant a whole new generation of graveyard delinquency and monstrous romance. As their heroes Radio Birdman did, they synthesise some sort of songline from their homeland, smearing the songs with a space and sensuality that others miss in the rush for the shock factor and an eternal headlong rush into a purgatory for putrid face-paint pastiches.

They’re also possibly the first and only band to sing a salutary psalm to William Shatner. However fear not as it would surely resurrect Stiv Bators for a spot of crypt(ic) castigation. And so as the end credits roll on this little treasure and you allow it to take root and cast its spells and charms it seems that whatever our comely charioteer-esses of catcacomb rock do we shall contribute corpuscles willingly. If you see them coming towards you with fangs bared, then give thanks and yield.

“Come on come on come on let’s raise the dead, Shake them bones – pass me the head…”
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-Stu Gibson