"...the band sounded like the Sex Pistols if they had been good, the Dead Kennedys who were always good and The Jesus Lizard who could plunge small African nations into famine and still be good."
"Sweaty refugees from the pit are stumbling back towards the bar to grab another beer and some air before diving back in. Meanwhile, Hamilton stands almost immobile, sweat dripping off his arms, raining heavy riffage down on the receding hairlines of the crowd below."
"All greasy hair and zombie stares, from the first chord these guys pushed the basement button on the elevator to hell."
"Cripple knee’d and full of drunken swagger, these guys bashed out a set of country-fried death rock that would have made both Nick Cave and Townes Van Zandt punch holes in their coffins."
"Things take a turn for the hilarious when some lone acid casualty, leaps up at the front of the stage and begins waving his arms around in the air like Syd Barrett - if Syd Barrett couldn’t dance and was engulfed in flames."
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