Cocksure, Cock-Blocking Sleaze

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Dirty Faces
Get Right With God
Brah
There's a heavy air of sleaze to these Philly swillers, so should they invade your local dive, keep your gal a safe distance away when frontman T. Glitter starts crooning, "I can't get no relief, like a thief." But stay for the tunes, 'cause this is some excellent, batter-dipped boogie sludge punk. Guitars squeal like fingers clawing eyes out on a particularly horny/bad acid trip ("Somnambulist's Vacation"), saving the face of grit-riffing from still lingering post–Nashville Pussy doldrums or recent Wolfmother miscues. The moments of clarity on Get Right With God can slide down into a dive-bar ditch ("Like a Thief") and/or slump around all sparse and creepy ("Watching the War From Above"); cock-blocking it all are T. Glitter's greasy and freaked vocals, slimily sonorous enough to gloat over swiping your stash, but present enough to recoil at the karma that's coming. Overall, Dirty Faces make a sloppy Beefheart chop not groggily grasped since Clawhammer.
 
 
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