The Dwarves – Sugarfix/Thank Heavens For Little Girls

Originally released “Some time in 1993”. Review originally published “Some time in 2008”.

If punk rock’s highest level of evolution is say, the Manic Street Preachers – erudite, politically motivated, aesthetically pleasing – The Dwarves are their polar opposite. Fittingly, I first read about them in a porno mag. I was immediately fascinated by their bizarre live persona and equally I gobbled up the review of their 2000 album “Come Clean” sandwiched as it was between photo spreads of plastically enhanced women whose names all seemed to be Terri and adverts for films with titles like Big Tit Suckoff. Come Clean had proved to be something of a breakthrough for the band, who in a fit presumably of boredom had resorted to writing songs (Some of which) were in excess of two minutes long and posessing lyrics which could, with care, be deciphered.

Thankfully Sugarfix is unburdened by such pretensions. Their last album before being not so much dropped as catapulted off Sub Pop – the result of a long standing prank in which it was claimed that guitarist Hewhocannotbenamed had been stabbed to death in Philadelphia – it’s about a subtle as a plastic turd and more life affirming than bungee jump off the mountain of your guilt. Ok, so some of the songs are probably about something; Smack City purports to be a tender friend winning homage to grunge’s alma mater, Seattle (“Smack City, it’s skies are ugly and the girls are grey”) whilst Gash Wagon’s closing “Sex, drugs, rock and roll, suck my dick and fuck that hole” would appear at least on the surface to be fairly self explanatory.

Not quite – we’re talking microns here – as joyfully offensive as it’s predecssor Thank Heaven For Little Girls, Sugarfix reasuringly still sounds like it was recorded in a toilet. Blag Dahlia still sings like his daily vocal excercises involve mostly Jack Daniels over broken glass and it still rocks faster and harder than anything further up punk’s twenty first century food chain, reminding you of time when The Butthole Surfers were considered musicians. It also still isn’t stuff to be critically appraised – in fact, what the fuck am I doing ? I’m out of here.

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