Well, Sonic Mook certainly have their thing. If scratchy garage guitars, stop-start post-punk drums with lots of hi-hat and drunken yelping vocals are your sort of thing, then file this single next to your Richard Hell records, close your eyes, and imagine a little bit of CBGB's heaven (via Shoreditch, at least.)
If no, then you'll just think it's a shambolic mess. Me, I find it oddly charming in an "Aw, aren't they cute, little garage rock boys who can't play their instruments?" sort of way, but then again, I would. I just wish that The Liberhivestrokes would stop being fucking fashionable so I could go back to admitting I like this sort of thing in public without feeling a twinge of guilt.
6Fiona Fletcher's Score