'I wanna take this tape, and blow up ya fuckin' stereo!'. Michel Poiccard's opening track is five seconds long, and consists entirely of a band member growling those words. It's a statement of intent, and it's also the calm before the storm: five seconds of the band limbering up, pawing at the ground, and staring fixedly into the middle distance. Then they put their head down and charge. Thirty five minutes and seventeen tracks of party-punk later, you're left feeling a little shaken but keen to put the record on again. This is a band with a unswervable desire to rock the hell out. They're the bull, you're the china shop.
Continue reading: The Death Set, Michel Poiccard Album Review
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