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The second single to be hauled from the furnace of feverish art-punk that is ‘McLusky Do Dallas’, ‘Alan…’ sees the Cardiff merry-makers' patented verse-nuclear meltdown-verse structure grow horns to match its talons. A song about a nutter, it latches inscrutable bellowing to mad-core guitars before shooting the whole thing down in a bloody inferno of heavy metal drums and gravely unpleasant rrrock rrrriffage. It is BSE in a bullet belt; scabies in a faded denim waistcoat. Your mother wouldn’t like it. Nor, in fact, would your doctor or local archdeacon. You, on the other hand, will toast its evil brilliance with a pint of goat semen and the smile of Satan.

Sarah Dempster

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