Review Summary: got my dick in one hand, and a gun in the other
What does it take to be a band? What does it take to make an album? Incredibly little. You need to have some notes ready on your instrument of choice, that part is pretty easy - there are lots to choose from and most of them will sound good to some freak out there. If you get the notes wrong sometimes it's not even a big deal. And get this: you are even allowed to use any note used in the past by other bands. Optionally, you need to convince some other people to play along on other instruments, you don't need to be friends or even have synergy with them or anything so that shouldn't be a problem. Oftentimes, as well as instruments you should try to make some kind of noise with your mouth too - luckily people seem to enjoy even the absolute worst sounds possible to come out of human mouths, just look at the popularity of Rush.
Get ready to inject scuzz directly into any and all functional veins left on your body because Drunks with Guns realised that just about any feckless scumbag on the planet can be in a band, mash together some half decent ideas, and publish some profoundly crude tracks to show for it. During the crowning achievement of all mankind's efforts that was the 1980s, these noise boys were one of the groups devolving punk self-righteousness into a caustic scorn of everything. The songs on this album sound like dark rings under the eyes, dirt under the fingernails, full to the brim ashtrays and a lingering taste that won't go away; sounds fuelled by that manic morning-after energy when you haven't quite sobered into painful hangover territory yet and the spirit alcohol of your choice together with a transcendental lack of inhibition still coarses up and down your spinal column.
Anything that might be considered a genuine success here is the tone of the guitar, one caked in the type of grime that stays forever. What is really appealing on this album is how impetuous it feels, the compositions are deliberately half baked; repetitive, simplistic yet somehow excellent riffs are played into the ground with mistakes abound, ad-libbed vocal grunts, moans and snarls seem included only to antagonise the listener, all propped up by a decent but barely practiced rhythm section deserving of endless credit - particularly the bass - for holding the mess together.
Opener/warm up session 'Blood Bath' includes mistakes from the very beginning, a single good riff scuzzed up to the eyeballs is lazily strummed with growing intensity beneath coarse, spontaneous groans of rambling hatred. More great riffs can be heard apathetically played on tracks 'Hell House' and 'Dick in One Hand', where the band seem more willing to experiment (barely) with composition. The riffs are often outshined by the ubiquitous bass which provides genuine grooviness to moments which might otherwise fall flat, and is probably the most rewarding part of repeat listens. Influences like No Trend are apparent on latter tracks 'Beautiful Happiness' and 'Wonderful Subdivision' where important cultural topics of the era like "stupid haircuts" are viciously lambasted.
Likely a source of inspriation for the cartoonish transgression of bands like Brainbombs, most of the lyrics here come across as though they were plucked from some sort of contest to pen the dumbest, most offensive material possible. Lines like "rip your eyes out, fart into your brain", "got my dick in one hand, and a gun in the other", and "it smells like s
hit in the room where we practice" sum up the simultaneous raw contempt and silliness of the album. Cuts like 'New Wave Negro Girl' hint at a genuinely bigoted side of the band but are not presented coherently enough to not deviate from the narrative of all-consuming nihilism.
Anything resembling the ethos of this album is epitomized in closing jam 'Cowboy', a real s
hit-eating grin of a track where sardonically upbeat riffs and gleeful bass licks conspire with the asinine but somehow still thought-provoking advice of "Be a cowboy" to underline the total lack of investment the band had in this release. Whether or not any of the members of Drunks with Guns were or later became cowboys is unknown, regardless this album is an achievement in that it stands as testament to how nothing special is needed to make good music. Pretty much zero pretense, skill or even effort is on display here yet there is plenty to enjoy.
