Amazingly, there are copies of this robust 12-inch record on grey-marble vinyl available for only $6 HERE . A great etching on Side B features the lyrics, presented like hieroglyphics chiseled out for future generations to heed.
I got my copy of this fuck-up-er used in Denver and I couldn’t be happier with its contents.
I reviewed Bravo Fucking Bravo for Skyscraper Magazine (R.I.P.) a few years ago, and I didn’t remember them sounding like a spear-wielding warrior atop a charging hippopotamus, but that’s exactly what’s going on here.
It’s like Red Scare, old Helmet, Unsane and Lack were burned together with blast beats like toxic plastics under flame and then molded in the midst of the toxic fumes. God knows I love heavy music, and this never lets up.
As I continually remind readers, presentation doesn’t mean a damn if you can’t bring the bitch-slap, and Bravo Fucking Bravo match their (and their label’s) design sense with furious, fiery abandon that keeps your heading moving even in the early stretches of the morning, the sunlight tickling your balls …
Or something like that … Long Live Colored Vinyl (and etchings, while we’re at it).
