Amyl and the Sniffers are a hurricane engine spitting fire. This is 29 minutes and 3 seconds of relentless machine-gun drumming, burning guitar playing and caustic chaos singing. The band make it clear that if you don’t want to listen, well tough, you’re going to. 

They will hit it into you repeatedly that they are here and you are there, shut up and listen or else get out and go back to your desk. Throughout, they dip into The Stooges, The Damned and The Sex Pistols, stealing riffs as they go as the band takes names, each one a new tick on the chart as the toll gets higher. But is this unoriginal? It doesn’t matter, they don’t care, they really don’t care and neither do I. By the end of the album ears were bleeding and stomachs were turning but I was pleased. If it were 45 minutes, I’d be dead by now, but it was short and sour, as any old school punk bad was.

Haiku Reviews
Amyl! sniff sniff sniff
Machine-gun nitrate in me
I feel like I am…

Words by Nick Ikin

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