‘The Wolf’ demonstrates it is still essential for a rebel rock n roll record to compel you to punch the air as if Motley Crue were making a comeback, Vince Neill and all. Although the parties seem to have slowed down slightly since ‘I Get Wet’, don’t underestimate the man in white’s ability to squeeze every ounce of partaaay power out of you. Worry not, a boy with an arab strap he has not become; in fact the tunes have increased in Melvins style sludge approval and the oogle worth, devil vocals have become more resolutely rock, with even more shit sounding like it got kicked out of his punk pitching piano. Even the Testament endorsed guitar chunks found more friends.
‘I Love Music And I Love To Yell’
In short, it is a Fight Club meets Popeye soundtrack masterpiece. The cartoon sound of death and soul stealing the seats next to a stadium filled with drunk Survivor fans. It is a headache tablet for those fair folk who spend all day drilling holes into concrete installations, the pain associated with a rush of blood to the head, sandblasted against a gumby, don’t-stop-a-running, spinal tap spinning, movie script.
This is no time to give up on he who likes to party and puke; we’re gonna keep believing so we can be there when victory strikes again.