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Enemy Hogs

Hedonistic voodoo rockers carving out pornographic ballets of danger, glamour and grace....

Enemy Hogs

8 / 10 From the streets of NYC they scurry, the leaders of the loft party scene. Hedonistic voodoo rockers carving out pornographic ballets of danger, glamour and grace. Wasted, skinny scoundrels in [a]New York Dolls[/a]' stolen tranny costumes, architects of this 40-minute blitz of last-gasp lust and revolutionary squall.

'Enemy Hogs' is a blur of treated vocals, heart-attack drums, ringing feedback and jerking, clattering keyboards, but deep inside this chaos lies the most licentious, thrillingly revolutionary blast of rock'n'roll to come our way all year. It's also a sexier brand of r'n'r rebellion than we've recently enjoyed, a strain of sexmuzik which picks up where glam-punks like [a]Girls Against Boys[/a] and Brainiac left off (on the jarring 'Quest For Two', singer Papa Crazy sounds exactly like that band's late, lamented frontman, Timmy Taylor).

It's the white-heat soundtrack to perverse pleasures, a seething, skeletal mess drawing upon its own skewed logic to flesh out a skinny-hipped, acid-fried boogie with baaaaaad things on its mind. This is a band who will hire the Grace Church Boys' Choir to sing lusty anthem 'Turn It: Up (Loud)', who close their LP with a Stones-y dirge eked out of whipcracks and a chant of, "A wicked servant is a wicked man".

Sick fucks indeed. We need their twisted, dirty likes so bad we're willing to beg. On our hands and knees.

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