(Estrus) www.estrus.com
Estrus again, eh? Hit the mark again,eh? Well, kinda. An underlaying of deep southern voodoo cruises all shook up (and down?) and suffused with some New York angular cool, and simmering with a loada abrasive Big Black, even early Cure guitars, JAMC attitude (yeah yeah that they may have got from New York bands themselves but very few are in their league), Blondie Farfisa's and vocals in a vortex somewhere between Suicide (Rev or Vega, can never remember who does which, on Cheap Cosmetics) and falling down a canyon, careering around barstadised R'n'B / Soul song structures, clattering into em, sending em flying like it always seems those Stones albums between the first one and Aftermath should sound but never did, (or do, cos I kinda wasn't there). The guitars are tuned just so, like early Mudhoney, and by it being recorded at the Thundercrack and Lightning Workshop it does sorta have the impression that they let in a load of street addled crazies to jam around and create a new swamp disco funk punk pyschout mantra that's pretty derivative while being highly original. And they may just have a new take on Whole Lotta Rosie too with them intoning in a serious solemn way something about "Sit me on the belly of a big fat lady". Or slap me with a big fat lady's belly maybe.