(HHBTM) It's amazing what a nasty, crass, dangerous sense of humor can do -- this album (despite one straight up punk song and a single searing guitar solo) is musically twee-leaning indie pop. However, all the satirical, potty-mouthed, bold blathering about cannibalism, anal sex, pizza rolls, Milton Bradley games, shit-stepping, and dead dads makes this feel like straight up heavy, raw garage rock. And it's funny. And disturbing. And bouncy!
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