Do you have a drinking problem, a lot of adrenaline, and a not-so-subtle subconscious yen for a long dirt nap? Yes? Well, I’ve got the album for you. This album has death-wish written all over it: the vast majority of it is filled with hard, fast, sloppy, drunk-ass rock and roll, obsessed with dancing, rocking and partying -- the rest is about death, guilt and isolation. In fact, they often occupy the same songs at the same time. But even when the energy level goes down a few notches, the Murder City Devils still have more swagger in their little fingers than most bands could manage on their best days -- this means that even when they sink into self-pity diatribes like “Every Shitty Thing” and “Cradle to the Grave,” they don’t get obnoxious and pathetic. I consider their whole catalog to be essential listening, but if you’re not sure yet, this the place to start. This is fevered, self-destructive party rock at its finest.
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