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I must admit I ignored this a tad, or quite a lot if I'm honest (& I am - unflinchingly so) as it came hop, skipping & jumping over to my basement blues in the same batch as The Strollers & Thee Michelle Gun Elephant. Well, stringing me up & hitting me with a birch wouldn't be too out of order as I was just plain unfair & discriminatory. And it won't do cos this is actually about a pretty nifty little mover when allowed the freedom (& they'll never take that) to stand on it's own, erm, other end that looks exactamundo the same as the other end, & blossom. Poke it's head out the soil & take a peek at this big, bad rotten apple of a world. I'm not too sure I'll be out & about on the streets of this fair(ly shit) city reading aloud & preaching the maggotspel but it rolls with some very Billy Childish type antics, especially on Let's Go In 69. Hell, it begins with JAMC's Beach Boys beat from Just Like Honey (or just the Beach Boys beat, the choice is entirely yours. See, freedom) before blasting into the Stepping Stone of Don't Stand In My Way which has some nice little structural twists. And so it's Stepping Stone with new words. So facking what. It beats listening to Johnny Thunders sometimes excrutiating sacrifices of it. I think these cats are cleverer than they let on too. There's some well crafted choons in amongst the scratchy, trebly, heavily tremeloed geetars (oh, baby) & clattering tribal drums all comfortably swaddled in reverb with a howl atop like they're playing in a cave with a Tazmanian Devil. Especially with the jerking Bo Diddley beat of Five Finger Shuffle being paired off with the melody to TV Eye, (excellent choice gentlemen) they know what they're doing. Some cork popping reelin' & rockin' & to you sir its sockin' guitar maestro-isation on Do The Maggot too. Start your own rockabillyswingarkestra sir. Dunno if it's cos they've a song called Cannibal Woman (top tune - kinda imagine them all dressed up in ludicrous horror/voodoo costumes like Screamin' Jay Hawkins) & what with the maggot sorta themes of Born Without A Brain The Cannibals immediately popped in my head & sent me scurrying to my tape pile to find out what the song was - Abra Cadaver. Unfortunately like The Cannibals tho' it's the sort of stuff I'd fill a tape up with, which isn't in itself an insult cos this is a grand half-hour. It's just not as enjoyably gutwrenchingly fucking scintillating as Thee Michelles or The Strollers from this bunch. But let's end on a high note. Last night I was getting well impressed with Now You Say We're Through & it's dark malevolent storm on the Merseybeat. As in "Now You Say We're Through / & there's nothing I can do" which is said in a kinda leeringly questioning way as tho' he's got moida on his mind. There's nothing you can do. Oh yes there is. Oh no there isn't. Err, yes there fucking is. - Stu Gibson