Suckdog
Onward Suckdog Soldiers
Er ... Just what the hell is going on here? More to the point, what in the hell
isn't going on here? With 44 tracks at just over 66 minutes, this CD is more scattershot than a piss-drunk duck hunter brandishing a 12-gauge. It all seems rather ... spontaneous, which I guess is a good thing because most of it sounds like it was recorded on the fly in somebody's bathroom, then spliced together in Lydia Lunch's liquor cabinet. Trainspotters might, or might not, be able to decipher nods -- whether intentional or not is simply impossible to tell -- to hipster icons Dub Narcotic (a nicely slurred song about pennies), Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Pussy Galore. There's also lots of screaming and crying -- only some of it sexual -- a good bit of lo-lo-lo-fi punk rock, several moderately disturbing answering-machine messages, a funny rant about bullfighting ("I hate bull killers ... I am a bull!"), plenty of cussing, and did I mention screaming? Overall, it plays like hard-core porn, Seventies AM radio, and your skeezy neighbors throwing bottles at each other all coming through your fillings at once, which is to say it probably makes perfect sense if you're ripped to the tits and horny enough to perform sex acts on the living-room furniture.
