Backstreet Abortions: Ketamine Coma EP

Cards on the table (and all over the floor following last night’s curry and poker), I don’t know who this band are. I have never heard of them. I found this EP in a skip, and have decided to review it. Maybe I am still drunk. But Jesus, try and look this band up, go on, they’re not even on the internet. How cool is that? (said in a high-pitched voice). Sure, many artists talk of being ‘post-internet’, but who really goes the whole way? (Rhetorical question. And anyway, the answer is Backstreet Abortions. (fuck I’m drunk!)). You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this EP had been left in a skip in Salford as some sort of marketing scheme directed at their potential fans (actually, thinking about it, I would be mildly surprised - that would be a totally unsustainable business model).

I haven’t got much to say about the actual music (this will become clear in the next paragraph) so I will just waste some words writing about the boring artwork. And it really is boring. Seriously, snoozeville (so drunk). The front cover features what I assume to be the band (four men, beards, wispy nightsocks) posing in front of a wall. A WALL MADE OF BRICKS. There was no apparent irony here, which leads me to two conclusions: 1) there is no irony 2) there is so much irony that it is blinding, like not seeing the forest of irony for all the trees of irony. I’m pretty sure 1) is correct. On the inner sleeve the band pose against the same wall four more times. In one shot what I assume to be the guitarist holds what I assume to be a fox.. This confuses the irony issue. On the back cover is a picture of a dead bat, the leathery shit all covered in sparkles. The issue of irony is now so confused, my only recourse is to drink heavily and vigorously.   

So what do Backstreet Abortions sound like? Well, what don’t they sound like? (again, rhetorical question. The answer is everything). That’s right, everything. Seriously, dudes, narrow yourselves down. Imagine a rigid python in a storm. Try and be like the python - firm, erect, and only snapping at the tastiest music nuggets. Because at the moment, it’s not Ketamine that would give me a coma, or even the industrial quantities of alcohol, it’s this EP. (Actually Ketamine would also give me a coma).