Curleys Curleys cassette

Are you folks here to fuck around? Because CURLEYS sure as hell ain’t! These Gainesville cretins only have one setting—full fucking on—so, once this record gets going, it’s not stopping until your stupid head is crushed completely flat. The eleven tunes on here find the band sounding like a methed-up TEENGENERATE ripping through a set of MODERN WARFARE covers inside a giant novelty plasma globe, and the vocals are quacky as hell but still retain just the slightest bit of tunefulness, kinda like the singer of the CARBONAS doing an impression of fellow Total Punkers the SLEAZE. Everything about this record feels hectic and out-of-control, but it’s actually being delivered with blinding, pinpoint accuracy—it’s the aural equivalent of stepping in the ring with Sugar Ray Leonard in his prime. Highest of recommendations!

Curleys Johnny EP

The label describes them as Gainesville cretins, and I think that’s about right. The kind of people who lurk in the dark corners of the club until it is their turn to play, and then disappear back into the shadows when they’re done. Thrashy and messy. PAGANS at 78 RPM with a brattier attitude. Six songs in about as many minutes. There’s no time for messing around. Cool.