Sorta surf, sorta punk, sorta horror rock, sorta sleazy late-night cable-access freakshow, Milwaukee’s The Pukes serve up a second helping of their spooky, glammy, hook-heavy weirdo rock. Imagine if Danzig-era Misfits were actually cartoon rats from Rockaway Beach. And wrote songs about murder and slurping buckets of blood. Surprisingly upbeat for a bunch of lunatics.
