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Whoa man, yabba yabba get yaw ass over here and kick out those jams, you crayzee sweat-soaked garage rock kid you! These cats rock in a way so old school you'll swear you were seeing things in black and white and paying for your beat-up thrift store clothes with wads of one pound notes. All of which sounds pretty good doesn't it? Fun, exciting, rock 'n' roll? Erm, yeah, I guess. The thing is, haven't we had enough of bands like this to last a lifetime, if not two or three? Hell, we've seen and heard enough bands like this to ensure that, come the age of freezing and reanimating folk into future worlds a la Futurama there will still be remnants of the early '00's garage explosion. I can visualise knackered Converse All-Stars hideously mutated by some unforeseen nuclear accident running amuck, pouncing upon the future relatives of the feet that cast them aside when they realised that dressing like a homeless person for designer prices was a really stupid thing to do. Of course, if you enjoy the trappings of fashion and archaic party-time rock n roll-a-soul, you'll love The Mooney Suzuki almost as much as you do your life-size Julian cut-out and second-hand MC5 records. If, like me, you can take or leave stuff like this, you're likely to be doing the latter.

Mike Diver
CWAS #12 - Summer 2003

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