It's nice that Siltbreeze is back in the game. It's also pretty sweet that they found their way to re-releasing this prime slab of dusty, primitive auto-shop floor oil-gunk from a couple of mono-syllabic jolt-action retards hailing from the hills of New South Wales .

Come with me. Do the thorazine stumble down a blind alley of broken equipment and bones. Colliding. Got the tape rolling? Good-o. "Hey that's not music. It's just noise. My five-year old could paint (better than) that" etc. etc. Yeah yeah but these throwbacks play like every cliché naïve outsider-musician you ever heard of is a fucken Juilliard-trained charlatan hoaxer. Mrs Mills? Ut? The Godz? Harry Pussy? The Shaggs? The Cro Mags? Stop. Start. Stop. Stop. Start. Stop-start-stop. Explosive bursts of musical morse-code played-back with glacial indolence. Start. Stop. Stop. Start. Fuck it, you never heard the blues played this way before. If the Dead C are the AMM of punk rock, then xNoBBQx are.. I dunno.. a stop-motion Morton Feldman or something.

The monkeys from 2001: A Space Odyssey aren't attacking each other with bones and clubs; they're dishing out the pummel using "electric guitars" and contact-mic'd lengths of two-by-four. Street-fighters. There's nails sticking out the end of their stuff; the nails are wired up to taser-voltage. Set phaser to stun. No wait: this is Robot Wars (TM) done in freeze-frame animation and the robots are great knuckle-draggin' lunks with instead of chainsaws and boltguns attached to their limbs they got these hyper-amplified electrified instruments. And drums. Let's get ready to rumble, morons.

Go to their shows (seriously, they're touring in America any day now). Look at the freeeeks, kids. Make friends with them on myspace. Point and laugh. Start. Stop. Stop-start-stop. 9/10 -- Young Savage (4 March, 2008)