"I got torn ligaments and the flu!" whines simmeringly simian Amen frontman Casey Chaos. Shut the fuck up with the pussy shit, bitch, and play some rock'n'roll! Oh dear, did we write that out loud? Sorry - must be all the testosterone. Amen positively spurt the stuff. So much so that one is tempted to strip off, oil oneself up, wriggle through the legs of the swearing, stinking, gasping teenage moshers and fellate the thrashing drummer. So one does.
Meet Amen - the super-butch pied pipers who will lead the beleaguered teens away from the festering 'singer-songwriter' rat-plague of mimsy ladyboy anti-rock. There's Hairy Quasimodo (Casey Chaos - vocals), Psyko Krusty ('Tumor' - bass), Marilyn Manson Without The Make-Up (Shannon Larkin - drums) and The Hills Have Eyes and Insane Osmond (guitarists Paul Fig and Sonny Mayo). Frenetically thrashing left-wing fuckpigs all.
What's on offer is acute intelligence, righteous anarcho-socialist anger and a wonderful social-surrealist/situationist cut'n'paste playfulness. Who's up for a T-shirt with the slogan 'Cops Suck Cock'? Me! But what you get live is a frothing tidal wave of raw noise (complete with screaming seagulls) underpinned by a hypnotically throbbing Sabbaff/Black Flag/UK Subs-style sensuality, all tastefully decorated with nakedly primitive and utterly visceral terror-rock visuals. Oh yeah!
The downside? There is no downside! From 'Coma America' to 'Resignation', Amen just rock your arse to fuck. It's an us-and-them thing, baby! The world is divided into those who get it and those who don't. Between pure punk rock'n'fucking roll (...You Shall Know Them By The Trail Of Raging Stone Age Speedhorn Queens) and the stinking, ditch-dwelling dullards of acoustic-strumming mimsy pop. Hallelujah!
OK, so maybe there IS a downside. Like when Mr Chaos mutilates himself onstage. Fuck OFF, Mr Chaos! You silly wanker! Cutting yourself is pretty damn sad when it's done by anorexic Mansun fans desperate for attention, but in your case it's a waste of pathetically misdirected energy. Stop it!
And then Mr Larkin blobbed on me tonsils and Mr Casey staggered offstage for some cough medicine and a Band Aid, and we all dribbled off home to plan the revolution. The first shots in the war to win rock'n'roll back from the moaning hippies have been fired. See them run screaming in all directions!
Sign up now, kids. Your country needs you.
NEW! For the latest music videos and backstage interviews, check out our brand new sister site, NME Video.
Comments do not always reflect the views of NME, or IPC Media, for guidelines visit our Ts & Cs page