Verses that reek of acute mental illness rely heavily on vocal reverb to force moronic rhymes and mindless lyrics through an equally psychotic sub-pop grind, as gain-heavy guitars crunch in split second splashes in a no-melody bass-dominated wasteland.
The chorus offers little respite either; desperately in need of the antidote by now, we are horrified to discover only the merest hint of sixties-style pale psychedelia.
No need to panic however: vintage amplified guitar sounds ensure that there’s a real Wild-West twang about it all, as before you know it, you’re immersed in a tremelo-arm obsessed tale of rat-race resiliance. More of a showdown than a hoe-down, this is dark and dysfunctional enough to render it strangely endearing, if not compulsive listening given one or two more plays.
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