Sure, you could blame your fashion choices on the fact that the man who you’re claiming buys your shirts for you (must be nice to be rich…) has done a few of the old drugs, Mr Johnny Kills. Or you could grow up and admit that you made a mistake. So there.
Anyway, dodgy fashion choices aside it sounds as though the trio have been listening to some Pixies since they last darkened our door and it has gone right to their heads. This time around things have got an awful lot dreamier, slower and infinitely more measured. In the introduction it sounds almost as if you’re listening to a new band altogether and when the fire really starts burning this becomes the sort of towering inferno somebody should make a film about. Maybe ‘The Building That Burnt Down‘ would be a good title. Anyway, guitars are flooding through the gates like there’s no tomorrow and that whole ’90s, nonchalant vibe is just pure cocaine as it slips so seamlessly down your ear canal that it’s be racking around in your brains before you even know it.
Johnny doesn’t just kill, he SLAYS like a bad mother-fudger and gives the day just that bit more meaning. Lovely stuff.