Track one comes barreling out of the gate on Jernigan�s floor tom, bass drum and ride-cymbal intro, with a lumbering two-note riff hard on its heels. Karp�s lyrics are mostly strings of non-sequiturs, an opaque mash of boyish enthusiasm and sheering contempt that looks nonsensical on the lyric sheet but makes total sense with the music. It�s all in the over-the-top yelled (not screamed, yelled) delivery. Singers Chris and Jared go for the gusto every time they step up to the mic.

Karp are masters of low-frequency mind-melding techniques. From Charles Bronson to King Solomons' reef to Lakefair, they cover it all in this ultra-low portrait of life in small town Olympia.

This album is the equivelent of a drunk pirate driving a garbage truck down your throat and peeling out on your intestines.