The Rippers - Songs For The Constipated
Owain Paciuszko 30/12/2008
Mixing a certain anti-folk/gypsy punk flavour with a more straightforward horror rock with wit and energy. Despite the slightly rubbish title of this EP there are treats instore, starting with Dead Hands Don't Touch, a charming little song that sets the mood nicely for what follows. Fake is a far more inventive track with its dirty surf bassline, scream filled chorus and glib vocals from Jill Strong.
Strong switches schizophrenically between sounding like a 50s crooner and a hyperactive child on aptly titled Bad Voodoo, which motors along like a transgender Nick Cave Halloween special. Riffing off of Betty Boop before bursting into the Distillers goes post-punk cacophony of closing track White Knuckles (Well, the tracklisting says it's White Knuckles, but they sing about 'Bad Voodoo' a lot here!?) it's a raucous climax to this surprisingly good little EP from a band that seemed to be promise more as a live act than they could deliver on record.
A punchy, fun 11 minutes of good - if familiar - horror rock.