9th studio album from one of the most brutal bands on the planet, you either love 'em or loathe them. Another essential slab of ear fuckery.
"...Well, while their guitar-bass-drums setup is at least as much 'rock' as 'noise' in its approach, at this point they are veterans in the annals of intemperate foulness. First assembling in the mid-80s, claiming frequently banned American writer Peter Sotos as their chief inspiration, the Swedish band went on to amass a catalogue of paeans to brutal psychopathy and the men who commit it, soundtracked by slurring, dizzy and utterly meat-fisted reductions of Stoogean proto-punk, heavy metal and accidental avant-garde. They almost never performed live, and the few Brainbombs interviews out there are terse and dismissive. There's almost nothing in their music that amounts to an ironic wink, or a layered Eminem-style disclaimer that Peter Råberg is just fuckin' with ya. All we can ascertain is that they still, after close on thirty years, still get something out of doing this, whereas (for example) William Bennett, Nick Cave and the various Geto Boys eventually moved on."
- The Quietus