"Like Beatles Bootlegs"

It's a fuzzed up fuck-up of a record.  Barely even songs!  One starts before the other ends and the next isn't much more than a catchy chorus idea of a song.  All singable if you can start before it stops.  Advert jingles covered by Sonic Youth.  The Beatles through a blender with glass instead of ice.

20 songs, most of them under 2 minutes long.  Some sound like a weak radio signal picked up from mars.  Others are a comet landing in your lap. Each one is as if your favourite just came on. At the start of each track I chant the mantra, "No, this is my favourite!"

Cracked songs through which the light shines.  Pop gems dragged through a hedge backwards. Sounding as if it were recorded in someone's bedroom on a second hand 4-track because it was.

Each song recorded in less than half an hour but sounding like condensed eternity.  Like half forgotten dreams or déjà vu.  Brevity, one breath songs, storms in teacups, 2 minute downpours, stolen kisses, lost loves of songs.   After nearly 20 years of listening I still find the songs creeping into my consciousness.  Under my skin... itches that can't be scratched.

This album sounds like it was recorded before all of their previous material.  It's come unstuck in time.  It comes through the wall of a Hamburg bar from 1960 to Dayton, Ohio 1994.

And from 1994 to today it still sounds full of energy and ideas.

Shards of guitar. Fizzy pop liquid lyrics. Sent from outer space. A hall of mirrors of imagery and faces that cannot be pulled. Sneezes of fired one liners. Nose bleed blood brothers. Echelons of words falling like giant rain drops. Bubbles of thoughts. Sketches of humanity. Childlike drawings of lives backward. Forgotten skills freeing raw expression. Looking at the invisible upside down. Pulling rabbit lines from unwritten novel hats. Cold front meeting warm in song form. Clack smack fuck shit poems. Bottled blues. Finger picking sins going to confession in a drum. Slapped cheeks red faced embarrassments for love compressed homeless lies on magnetic tape.  Artful dodging of conformity based path following trail blazing skid marks. Listen cut up festival chops murder songs. Words falling down the stairs. Chinese burns to your brain while you are sleepwalking. Wake up and listen to thousand bees being in your head.