A seltzer-driven guided tour of the stratosphere, just south of Heaven proper and just north of the land of Care-a-Lot. If you can't feel your face or seem to be missing your limbs and torso, the animal tranquilizers are kicking in nicely.
This is kind of like the punk-rock equivalent of head-butting your encyclopedia shelf over and over again in the desperate hope that repetitive cerebral blows will alter reality such that "A" really does stand for "elephant." Gnarly!
Kids on a Crime Spree
The theft, here, from the Ramones' "Judy Is a Punk" feels wholesale enough to be wanton, overpowering even. Why not just buy matching leather jackets? Why not pay Phil Spector a conjugal visit? Please.
This grim, warped tale of a father and son reunited then sundered isn't exactly "Cat's in the Cradle," and Serengeti cuts things short before it can really go anywhere; he gives the listener just enough to spark our imaginations, to send us tripping down dark avenues.
Somehow this brand of strangulated tunelessness isn't quite crazy enough to be convincing; I think of this, not necessarily unkindly, as "Olde Time Relijun Lite."