The ten-tracks shift through lo-fi a number of powder induced gears, although at times the incessant noise slips into dirge territory. It would have nicer had the drums sounded somewhat crisper - as it stands, they are more slightly aged Snax, as opposed to fresh from the packet Hunky Dorys.
Having said that though, it’s actually quite refreshing to hear a singer who’s voice box have quite obviously not been touched up to the nth degree, although they way the vocals strain occasionally rankles slightly. I have heard much worse though – me.
Occasionally, the albums dwells within the realms of sunshine pop, yet neither the sunshine nor the pop abound - rather a bloodstained truncheon in the dank rain at the edge of forest – all quite civil really.
Kill! Kill! Death! Death! is quite simply the aural equivalent of having the shit kicked out of you by manic five year-old children with soft, endearing eyes – they may look sweet, but they will cut you and cut you and cut you, leaving you bloody nosed and immersed in tragedy. Can't you feel the spiral of doom?! No? Good.
Meanwhile in the background, a haemorrhaging aorta spills, dying the drizzle touched ground a deep seductive red.
“Not a Sad Song”, why, oh why do you remind me of the scene in Spiderman when Grandpappy dies, eh..? Christ, that film was shite, but ohhh Kirsten Dunst.................
Is he saying “quack” over and over again? Oh, he is. Fair enough.
At 29 minutes, one can certainly say the album is not too long. I like that - it reminds me of finely cooked sausages. None of this 70 minute-long shindig please – I’d rather writhe in wolf vomit if that were the case.
I guarantee you that if Yogi Bear were still alive, he’d give this a neat (if wary) thumbs up, before beating the leaving shit out of some poor, defenceless orphaned cubs. Because that's what Yogi Bear is - a prick.
Good fun. This will be soon be tempered by some Miles Davis, but for now, download Kill! Kill! Death! Death! here.
Rating: 3 out of 5
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