Sees them shifting from speeded up RNB into that punk rock, self erected tent, built to dominate imaginations for more than a few years. Raw, uncooked but suprisingly well produced, all tighter than a rich mans pound; this captures the slower, pensive, thoughtful, but over brimming acidic Howard, dripping with his simmering tedium.
A version of "Boredom" is ensnared in one extensive, angry yawnnnnn. Displaying the full spectrum of ennui, bedum... dedum, Howard wrenches another definitive performance of a classic call on time. Time's Up; another fave from an era, stretching along to the 21st century, tagging along with his Big Dummy-here more rnb than punkkkkk rockkkkk.It still exudes that sneer, which twists the vocal lines, beyond punk into pure dripping snot.
Also wrapped up, is the majesty of the purple head, depicted standing proud in its perpetual stroking; Orgasm Addict; he's tried it once before and here it is again... still pummelling away 30 years later, now with a lot more to say..."not now I'm busy."
The other tracks are less familiar, those that were left in the can... apart from "Can't Control Myself." Yep, it finally makes sense being played along with the others... the Buzzcocks take on sex and relationships were...revelatory.
This albums skid marks its tires to the splurge of electric adrenaline, all firing back through the speakers as moments of enlightenment, untamed emotion dredged from seventies teenagers,captured in one long pristine bristling snap shot. When music that emitted was beaten and mashed, to satiate the hungry and wild... where nothing then.... was ever, as humdrum, as...