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The Fat Dukes Of Fuck: Honey From The Lips Of An Angel

Lobotomised larks and shady shenanigans from Las Vegas

It would be criminal if these Las Vegas, Nevada reprobates didn’t have the music to match what must surely be the greatest band name of all time. But never mind that: The Fat Dukes are clearly not right in the head.

This album begins with a 150-second punk-metal tirade about how we should all take a look at and, ideally, have a feel of singer The Shitwizard’s ‘bulge’ and continues with the demented garage thrash of the charming Sorry About Your Dick. Cerebral and poignant this is not.

What it is, however, is gloriously unhinged and stuffed to the gills with warped riffing, obnoxious sloganeering and moments of mescal-sodden madness worthy of the Butthole Surfers. Whether hailing the virtues of dancing with idiotic abandon on the Clutch-plus-funk riot of Prelude To The Greatest Night Of Your Life or ensuring that the authorities are alerted on I Killed A Small Child, this revels in its lack of decency and implores you to disengage your brain, dive into a vat of beer and wipe your sweaty balls on the upholstery. Fuck yeah.