Half Rack of Sugar

Austin, TX, has this great propensity to belch up wired, gnarly bands, all ready to destroy your polite cocktail party like one of those wishful movie scenes with hors d'oeuvres and wine glasses flying. Enduro wastes no time introducing you to their mean, nasty, hellacious garage/R&B/psychobilly screaming with "Penthouse Suite." Pumping out a perversion of Barrett Strong's oft-covered "Money," the clean eight-track recording can barely hold back the thumping, jarring, stomping, ass-kicking, hellraising, and barnstorming racket this trio unleashes like Mexican jumping beans. The attack doesn't stop thereafter, as jolting, warped guitar playing and a raw rhythm section keep smacking you senseless through a variety of related styles. Singer Bucci makes madness seem like a hell of a good time, singing with his mouth covering the mic, the dials in the red, the man's very tonsils tearing through your speakers as if to grab you by the neck, and say, "Listen, you passive mofo, you need a good slap in the mug." Wild, unleashed fury of the most chaotic, suped-up kind. My speakers are still hissing.