MISS HIGH HEEL
Split Wax Cylinder, Inscribed: Beast 661
This time I really meant it. I was gonna kill somebody. I even went so far as to search the house for a sufficiently blunt, brutal instrument. A soundtrack was necessary, of course, so I opted to sample this new "supergroup" platter featuring members of The Flying Luttenbachers, To Live And Shave In L.A., Lake Of Dracula, Hatewave and others. Amazingly, the ensuing sonic mayhem proved so appealing it calmed me down enough to realize (a) crime doesn't pay (though it sure is fun) and (b) this sloppy, slobbering batch of honkie skronk is better for your head than any shrink. It's so obscenely obtuse in its entire lack of structure and melody (indeed, any musical value whatsoever) that it'll make you feel like John Denver to its Jeffrey Dahmer. What's not to love about someone growling and gargling unintelligable "everyone must die" anti-lyrics while assorted loonies splatter electro-noise across the walls, blow horns like porn queens on coke, sexually abuse guitars and pummel drums with psychotic disregard for meter and tempo? Even as no wave goes, this is exceptionally violent; it makes DNA sound like REM in comparison. Introduce yourself to Miss High Heel. It's muzak for moidah, dollface, and I'd like to schedule another treatment as soon as possible, please.

John Graham, Anodyne, 10/98