WHO ARE THEY? A kick-out-the-jams Swedish power trio that proudly proclaims to be “Influenced by the shitty rock ’n’ roll of classic bands like The New Bomb Turks, Gluecifer, The Hellacopters, Turbonegro and The Stooges.” Do I really need to say anything more?
WHAT IS THIS? Their destructive debut album — and the followup to their magnificently titled 2018 EP Motherfuckers Be Drippin’ (which lets you know they also dig Supersuckers — as if they needed yet another point in their favour).
WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE? Eleven short, sharp shots of full-tilt, no-bullshit badassery fashioned from smokin’ guitar riffage, thunder-chuckin’ drum beats, lung-busting vocals reminiscent of Turbonegro’s Hank Von Helvete and lyrics about drugs, death and other family-friendly fare (assuming you’re in the Manson Family).
WHAT WOULD BE A BETTER TITLE FOR THIS ALBUM? Dripping Balls.
HOW SHOULD I LISTEN TO IT? While banging your head, pumping your fist and bouncing off the walls — whether you’re listening to it in a basement bar or your damn kitchen.
WHAT 10 WORDS DESCRIBE IT? Fast, frenzied, fiery, ferocious, raw, rude, rambunctious, relentless, rebellious, rousing.
WHAT ARE THE BEST SONGS? The one you’re listening to. The one you just listened to. And the one you’re about to listen to.
WHAT WILL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY SAY? ‘Why do I have this sudden, irresistible urge to take drugs, drive fast and fire automatic weapons?’
HOW OFTEN WILL I LISTEN TO THIS? To quote the Drippers themselves: Too much is never enough.
IF THIS ALBUM WERE A SCENE FROM A QUENTIN TARANTINO MOVIE, WHAT SCENE WOULD IT BE? The moment in Pulp Fiction when Uma Thurman gets a needle of adrenaline slammed straight to the heart.
SHOULD I BUY, STREAM OR STEAL IT? Don’t be a drip.