I arrived late at the Smog party, if you could call it that, more of a drink yourself to death and then laugh at your misfortune style affair, but I made it nonetheless. 'Knock Knock' was a piece of abstract wonder from last year's glut of records that despite its instant turn offs to the masses - songs of prison wardens and bad childhoods to name but few- was totally rewarding. So I looked forward to the follow up with great anticipation, the title was something of a reassurance straight away, Callahan's dry wit was seeping onto the cover yet again and what unfolds inside does not disappoint. It's a much bigger record than the last, in length and also in content and scope. The 'poppy' nature of 'Held' has disappeared and made way for sparse guitar/ vocal centred arrangements. Callahan's voice is still as perfectly droll as ever, but it's the humour that grabs you the most- he would never hold a girl to the floor like that, would he? The disturbingly titled 'bloodflow' is this year's 'No dancing' with cheerleaders instead of children's choir but just as effective in the pace and distance it covers. I could write forever about this album, knowing that it would only fall on a few appreciative ears, perhaps that is how Callahan would like it. To those who have entered his macabre world this is another fantastic Smog record, to the unconverted this is your baptism waiting patiently with a rusty blade and a knowing grin. Go get some in...