Oh, would you c’mon! Man…I just…dammit! This record has brought out some anger over here. It didn’t piss me off because it is horrible or anything like that…okay, check this.

There’s a striking, rattlesnake head on the cover with a spray painted pentagram behind it. You’ve got song titles like “Cheap Wine,” “Dirt,” “Blame Bukowski,” “Limbs,” and “Down Town.” I’m just feeling some Southern-influenced, whiskey-crazed, heavy trailer rock is coming up soon.

And then, the music hits. And yes! It’s all rough and rockin’ white trash rock, and — wha? Who let this singer in? What the hell is going on here?

Imagine a band reminiscent of Nashville Pussy, or a slowed-up REO Speedealer or Zeke. But then have some one-toned, boy band-core shrieker from Black Veil Brides or Asking Alexandria doing the vocals. It just doesn’t fit. The music is sure-as-shit tough. The vocals are decent, but are made for something else entirely. If there was a different voice — an actual singer with a pack of Camel Unfiltereds for a larynx and a fondness for Hank Williams and Cocknoose — this album would absolutely kill.

(Basement Records, PO Box 511, La Habra, CA 90633-0511)