There's a shit-ton of great bands coming out of Australia at the moment. Bits of Shit, Total Control and these guys are probably my favourite, mixing the unhinged nature of Japanese noise-punk with the irreverent spite of stripped down American rock and roll. Following on from last years amazing Nuclear Papsmear LP, this seven-inch is more of the same from Vaginors: drums and bass that bounce happily along in the puddles of hiss and Wrangler Brutes/Crucifucks muppet-squawk vocals that could strip paint off a jacket. Vaginors play ugly silly impudent arsepop, they're like what Ke$ha would sound like if she really sounded the way that the tediously misogynist middle-aged beige-solemn dadrock IanMcEwan wankers imagine she sounds like in the harrumphing cavernous voids of their intellectually barren self-important Newsweek skulls. This is utter sonic idiocy, cut-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-dad, irritant punk fucken rock, pushed and taunted forward by the poke, pop and rumble of the rhythm section, as that Toy-Dolls-from-a-hell-dimension birdcall yaps about in agitant demonic freedom, screeching and sneering, devolving into manic animal noises and psychotic laughter. Total nonsense, revelling in absurd eejit innocence, stupid and marvelous nonsense.
