Misery Madness And Murder Lullabies
Another suppurating horrorpunk freakshow to contaminate your crusty ribcages and fester in your hearts well worth descending down to their abject levels of filth and depravity, these creepy Canadians slash out suave and classy grave-rubbing psycho-country, death-western ballads and neck-tying laments from the catacombs connecting the whorehouse to the morgue in the defiled wild west town they’ve reanimated. Ferocious yet considered but by no means calculating, they don’t need to parade their oh-so psycho pomp under tiresome thrash, which only underlines their alluring malevolence all the more. Cultured wouldn’t be the point. Just they have a rare commodity of passion riding insistently with the idle insanity of their chosen musical coffin. Just when you thought it was safe to return to your tomb of pulp glitch-riddled ‘billy this third saddle-goring travesty is an utter triumph much deserving of a meeting with the lords of the underworlds, for tis theirs for the taking should their thirsts be as yet still need slaking. Being a long time a-coming since anything remotely psycho could be said to be essential, almost as essential as yer vitals, not since Teddy Trigger and the Gatling Guns. They might not exactly be re-writing the ghoul book entirely but when it’s desecrated as devilishly as this on House By The Cemetery, Sunday and madcap mariachi twist of Snakepit then they have a sharp, serrated point indeed.