Remember when punk was dangerous? Nah... me neither. But hey, I read Black Flags 'Get In The Van' and it sounded cool... and it sounded really, really dangerous. Enter On... a full throttle blur of utterly wasted heaviness clinging to a two-chord, droning, punk rock core. Hell hath no fury like this mess and the threat of serious physical harm hangs in the air like a half-landed drunken chick-punch. Two monsterously distorted basses, and a guitar tone like a broken windscreen mean the poor drummer has to pound his cheapo kit into near-nirvana just to be heard above the gargantuan din. Primal, sexual, pre-menstrual, very drunk, and very, very dangerous. The best possible distillation of The Germs unhinged self-mutilation, the paralysing narcoleptic sludge of The Cherubs 'Herione Man', and the most profoundly aimless bloodletting of early Skullflower, all wrapped up in a tattered 'Zen Arcade' poster. Get-me-the-feck-outta-here! (label press)