This “Proto Jazz-Punk multi-genre splatter” album was originally released on CD in 1995. “My Wife Doesn’t Understand Me” is now available on vinyl for the first time as a limited edition double LP, playing at 45rpm for superior sound quality. This package also includes downloads of four radio edits.

My Proto Jazz-Punk multi-genre splatter reference box was empty I’m afraid so there was nothing to compare this with. Though it did remind me quite a lot of James White and The Blacks. It might remind you of the soundtrack to Abigail’s Party on acid. Or the time you fell over putting the recycling boxes out. Or the time you really wished you hadn’t watched Nightmare on Elm Street after taking crystal meth.

The album opens with 6-8-1 (the burn up). There are eleven drum breaks on this track. They sound identical to me and I ended up counting them, every single one, as they incessantly punctuated the brass.

“Hey Louis Let’s Do Lunch” is great. Vocals that Fee Waybill would have been proud of. Just as you think it’s ended a loop of someone playing Louie Louie through a dustbin starts and I could have listened to it forever.

Track three is the blink and you’ll miss it “Cover Versions”. Before you can think The Jon Taylor Blues Explosion it’s over and we’re into “Ructions”. This should be played very very loud whenever you think things are getting too comfortable.

“I Don’t Know Where It’s Coming From (But I Dig It)” fades in with a Go-Go beat, and the chant of the title rolls with a George Clinton Brides Of Dr. Funkenstein scan. Somewhere in the world, the Go-Go beat should always be playing. Like a sonic eternal flame.

Track six, “Knife”, Starts like Uncle Meat and then grooves along like Francis Vincent in his Zoot Allures period. Beatniks will dance to this. It almost has a drum solo as well.

“Known Not Wanted” has a Bitches Brew vibe that morphs into a groove that sounds as if it’s crawling across the floor like a sedated reptile. There’s also more than a hint of Duane Eddy playing the Green Leaves Of Summer at half speed. 2.59mins of sonic perfection.

Track eight is “It’s Showtime” After some Avant-Garde jazz, that sounds as if the bass player has a gun pointed at him, they kick into a riff that’s used at least twice a night by every jobbing R&B and blues band on the planet. Bah Da Ba Da Bah!!, you’ll know it. Somehow they manage to take it to another level that transcends it into being worthy of a place on the soundtrack of From Dusk Til Dawn.

“No Qualms” sounds like an anti-matter 10CC. It’s got a “Chick A Boom Sha La La” chorus to sing along with. It should be covered by Steps or somebody Swedish. It’s a hit!

And here comes track ten. Its title Dehydrate/ Rehydrate sounds like it belongs on an early Roxy Music album. It doesn’t. Think Andy Farley and the On-U-Sound label. The Voice Of Authority. It’s great. You can dance to it.

“Blue Funk” is Santana on lithium. You can bump and grind to this kids! It’s even got a Carlos Sultana guitar solo. Great pole dancing music, if that’s your bag. Right on people. Wah wah that tusi.

Track twelve is 36 seconds of “A Taste Of Honey”. It’s played like you’d expect it to be played if you were attending a special occasion at Pizza Express. Why it’s been included I’ve no idea. No idea at all. Make it go away, mummy. Please.

Everybody still hates Margaret Thatcher apparently so “Margaret Thatcher We Still Hate You” probably goes down a storm live. So it should. It’s got more of a punk thing going on than the rest of the album though, and coming after the horror, or refreshing change, of Honey, things start to sound a little disjointed.

Track fourteen is called Jean-Pierre. It’s gorgeous. As if they’ve been taken over by Calexico.

“My Wife Doesn’t Understand Me” closes the album proper. It’s their very own Tomorrow Never Knows. Backward loops, speaking in tongues, firstborn sacrifices, that sort of thing.

The extras are well worth the price of admission as well. Qualm Free Zone is a gas.

The world needs this band and you might just need this album. Better hurry up though, there’s only 500 of ‘em!

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