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This is the dirtiest, dingiest, sexiest bucket of sweat you’ll hear all year. Powered by lead screamer Coco Roy, a ball of raging hormones and punk ferocity, this album is the kind of crazy, throbbing wet dream you’d have after falling into a Quaalude haze with a pile of Creem magazines from 1978.

Came from the sky like a 747. Classic Rock’s least-reputable byline-grabber since 2003. Several decades deep into the music industry. Got fired from an early incarnation of Anal C**t after one show. 30 years later, got fired from the New York Times after one week. Likes rock and hates everything else. Still believes in Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, against all better judgment.

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