Y’see, on the one hand I hate it. I hate what this does to my head, making me feel like a part-cooked microwave meal; melted on the inside but ice-cold on the outside. But on the other it makes me horny as fuck; like leering at Rachel Leigh Cook in her smalls doing the hippy-hippy shake on a mattress to the sound of Iggy and the Stooges. I don’t know whether to run to the doctors or make a dash for the toilet for a sweaty five-knuckle shuffle. What I do know is that this is as dirty as punk rock gets, full stop, and if anyone thought that The Icarus Line were gonna compromise anything for their new major-affiliated label, well, ‘Up Against The Wall Motherfuckers’ (limited to a mere 1,500 copies!) is their spunk in your eye. And it’s hotter than the insides of my head.

Someone, please, cool me off. I’ll take on those babies now if need be, providing these west coast misfits haven’t killed, fucked, or eaten them first.