‘It feels like someone parked a Buick in my mouth…’ – Buzzin’
Don't worry your cider-saddled, gin-groping, whisky-wailing heads that the above statement is a direct result of skating with Satan, tis just Ontario’s unholy Hell pooch Hooch and his Lucifarian Brotherhood of Baphomet returning with a further disembowelling instalment of Demondrunk Horrorbilly as a follow-up to their Horrorbilly 9000 masterpiece. Contriving to cast jinxes, hexes and curses at the crawling cowardly sniping types that have conspired to beset his grand designs on global dominations, sending ‘em to some purgatory for pusillanimous pussies, which he then gatecrashes to whip ‘em with some drink-swiping Satanic doo-wop and sauce-sluiced serenades like Little Bit Of Alcohol, Faith In Booze, Drunk And Drivin’ and odes to coffin-fit females on That’s How She Died and I Love You When You’re Dead, all marinated in a humour both as dark as the devil’s doorknob - and as tongue in cheek as the one of those - (‘Chokin on a cack that’s how she died’, ‘Let’s get you out of that box and out of those clothes’). It can’t be denied that the guy knows his stuff too (or, maybe it could but then your liver may start secreting bile from your eyeballs), digging back further than many in the gamut of ghoul rock to incorporate charred country such as closing chaser I Lied and swinging blues That Kind Of Love and Hooch (a man who ‘casts an enormous shadow for someone who’s only 4 foot 11’ due to his allegiances) and his current cabal can play, well, like dudes who sold their coal black souls for seven chances to be sick in the back of Satan’s cab. While it may not reach the astounding stair-dismantling depths of it’s predecessor, Sweet Revenge is a plush, high-backed n’ classy manifesto to be seduced by, savour and maybe dance on a grave or two for, furthermore, it’s an infernally feral fist of fun indeed.