By Monk

The Uber Rock Approved stampIt’s a hold up, boys and girls, and I for one am sticking my arms in the air and declaring that these particular Glorious Bankrobbers can take what they want from my aural vault, as they are more than reciprocating with the latest collection of earworms that they are in return depositing in same.

Widely regarded as one of the precursors of the Scandi action scene, inspiring a plethora of young pretenders such as Hellacopters, Hardcore Superstar, Mustach and just about every other genre, these guys ain’t exactly robbin’ any rawk ‘n’f’n’ banks, but rather delving deep into those selfsame vaults, extracting the richest carats of the gold buried therein, melting the bars down and remoulding them into some of the sort of grooves that the true billionaires of the business would gladly give up their fortunes to have mined in the first place.

Immediately proving they ain’t no drudges when it comes to delivering this sort of low-class high-end brawlin’, rawkin’ and rollin’ sleazy grunting and grinding punkiness, they ensure we definitely don’t ‘Dodge The Bullet’ when it comes to getting shot squarely between the earlobes with their brand of ‘Criminal Boogie’ as they stick their foot on the accelerator faster than Verstappen ramming into a speed barrier…

But, one thing is for sure, and that it ain’t no offence to fall for all the unlovely charms of this bratty, snotty, arrogantly anachronistic and anarchic brand of back alley garage strut ‘n’ stroll that has you wanting you to wash your sparkly new boots in the nearest dirty puddle and then kick what remains of the dirty water straight into your girlfriend’s face before licking it off with the lascivious intent of a steroid-pumped porn king.

This is dirty rock ‘n’ roll at its dirtiest. Roll me in the mud, baby, then hose me down and do it all it all again… but, pour me a whiskey first, ‘cos I need something with which to wash it all down \m/

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