I put the headphones on and lean back. Jagged guitar assaults my ears and fear grips me as I hear the harrowing opening litany. THEY ARE OUT TO GET ME.
The beat kicks in. We’re in party mode, but things are still unsettled. I can’t find the bling, only corrupt cops and incompetent middle management. They tell me I can’t see, but I’m trying.

Children playing forms the background for child abuse while the world’s most shimmery keyboard patch puts a glossy, confectionery coating on getting to close to the seedy streets. I’m remided of all the things I need to fear again, but I nod my head to the rugged drums and shout along: “WE AIN’T SCARED OF YOU!”

A tender case of commitement jitters turns into all-out mad-dog frothing over blatant infidelities. This in turn takes us to a mythical land where every lady is a little bit mocha, a little bit latte and a whole lot of DAMN! (Of course, we have to look over our shoulders to make sure the female friends can’t see us rubber-necking.)

The storm clouds brew again as the POWERS THAT BE breathe down our necks and pull our strings; Joe Theisman to the rescue! At the end all I can say is “blah blah blah”; I’m completely spent.

Hands shaking, I take the headphones off, wipe the sweat from my brow, and press play again. It’s just that good.

Don’t let this album pass you by; you can’t afford not to hear it.