Everyone seems to think this is the best one yet, a return to form and all that, which usually translates to honest, it's quite good, definitely not as bad as it could have been; but fuck me, it might actually be the best one yet, and certainly does a lot to remind me how fucking amazing Austerity Dogs sounded when I first heard it. I'm not sure what they've done differently, or the same, or how they've shaken off the suggestion of trying to keep the magic going despite hanging out with Phil Collins on an episode of Tony Blair's Great British Celebrity Cake Factory - which may well have been just my ears - but Jesus Christ it's worked. This one strips the paint right off the walls.
Musically and lyrically, it's mostly what you would expect, or perhaps hope for - the same flavour of bile, venom, piss, and late night doner kebabs yet without sounding like a retread of previous efforts. There are plenty of one-string guitar loops, cheap video game rhythms and so on, and not a trace of anything unnecessary, and somehow it all adds up to grooves which almost equate to Severed Heads hanging around on the council estate. Nudge It is particularly powerful, hammering away with a bass that might be detuned floor toms on a cheap eighties drum machine for all I can tell. Everything has the sound of equipment plugged into the wrong sockets, overdriven signals achieving some effect which you could never achieve if you tried to do it on purpose.
As for Mr. Williamson, you already know what he does best, and he does it better than ever here - so caustic it makes it difficult to look the album in the eye for fear of it picking a fight.
Spare Ribs is so good it's hard to know what else to say about it beyond for God's sake, don't spill its pint: another one that makes anybody stood next to it look like an idiot.
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