• Composed by Robert Williamson and Geoff Zanelli
• Lakeshore Records LKS-34075 / 2009 / 58:26

Picture the scene: you open your eyes, feeling groggy.  You’re completely disorientated – no idea where you are.  It’s completely dark.  The only sound you can hear is a child crying. Out of nowhere, a gunshot.  The child isn’t crying any more.  Footsteps in the darkness.  You try to move – but are tied down.  A cold, hard feeling of metal against the rear of your kneecap.  BAM!  Your kneecap is shattered.  You scream out in pain.  “If you make another sound, we will cut out your tongue.”  You shiver in pain and in fear.  This is unbearable.  The footsteps move away.  You quietly weep.  Hours pass – you feel increasingly lightheaded.  The flow of blood from your wound has slowed to a trickle, but the warm fluid is still running down your leg, finally dripping into the large pool which has accumulated on the floor.  Gradually, your eyes are picking up a few small details from the darkness.  A few feet away, you can see the bottom of a stairwell.  More footsteps.  It gets worse – a new sound.  A chainsaw.  You remember the earlier instruction – the only voice you can remember.  You daren’t scream, but it’s the only thing you can think of doing.  You fight the urge.  The chainsaw gets closer and closer.  You can feel air coming off it near your head.  That’s it – you cry out “Why are you doing this?”  The chainsaw stops – thank God.  But someone grabs your head, holds it back.  They prise open your mouth.  “I told you what would happen if you made a sound.”  Oh, no.  No.  You feel the knife on your tongue.  And then it happens.  You pass out. 

Anyway, the experience I have just described would be considerably more pleasant than listening to this album.  It’s as miserable an experience as I can ever remember having.  The Remote Control guys have found an even deeper level of shit to scrape from the bottom of the barrel.  Can’t they just go away?  NO STARS

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