lamps: songs of sexual frustration
two tracks on one seven inch, not so much played as disgorged, not so much recorded as acid scorched, not so much listened to as shouted at wildly with spittle, foamflecked glee. right noisy buggers playing wild fucking music. essentially.
the cover, a crying cartoon badger with gun in mouth says somethingorother.
side a: a cover of pissed jeans‘ boring girls: had at with hammers by hairy eastern european thugs.
side b: a cover of devo’s i need a chick: slowly penetrated by a barbwire wrapped david yow.
lamps are (ele)mental distorto agression swinging wildly at yr head. lamps are explosive glass shards of manic elecfuckingtricity. lamps are pussy galore, the cramps and todd locked in filthy coital mortal kombat. lamps are the drunk badass in your head urging you on to have that last dangerous drink with a young lady of questionable sexual hygeine.
in other words, lamps are fucking awesome.
ss records / in the red records
