Atonal, amoral garage rock at its finest, trashiest


While we’re (hopefully) transitioning to a Montreal indie-rock backlash, these Canuck black sheep have chugged along with nowhere near the acclaim they deserve. Of course, since when is acclaim granted to obnoxious drunks who couldn’t operate a guitar tuner to save their lives?
Satan’s Little Pet Pig, Demon’s Claws’ third record, approximates a slovenly 13th Floor Elevators bootleg CD, found all jewel-case-less and sticky. It’s up to you to clean it off, but please do, because the merge of rhythm and racket here is extremely hard to attain.
They’ve got psych-slop hooks as good as their Black Lips pals (“Shadow of a Castle,” “Hunting on the 49”). They can sling lost late-’70s punk riffs with a psychotic fervor (“Wrong Side of Town”). And they can go the Stones’ crud-country route (“That Old Outlaw”) and then quickly bash out a rickety garage clanger suitable for stumbling through during one of their infamous live “shows.” But mostly, Demon’s Claws prefer jugular-cut Jagger vox and guitar licks that amazingly lead to finger-snapping
and head-bopping—it’s some of the best beer-drenched amplifier trash rock to surface since the Cheater Slicks’ heyday.

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