Capitalist Kids purvey the classic Lookout-sound matched with sarcastic lyrics taking aim at the many shit vagaries of late-period capitalist oligarchy, and then a bunch of songs about girls too. Billy Bragg covers, Dr Frank-aping quicksmart vocal twitches and switchback wit, songs about different generations of delusional arseholes in Ayn and Weasel, sorta wistful youth-leavin' angst on Three-Oh. This album is the sort of silly self-deprecating ramonescore twist that can entitle a love song We Are Each Ultimately Alone in the Universe. Power-fightin' power-pop.
