Should one be overcome with an uneasy sense of foreboding when opening a jewel case and coming face to face with a lengthy passage from Henry Millers seminal opus, Tropic of Cancer? If the fact that Bright Calm Blues staffed by a group of book-wormy pedants wasnt enough to bury this album from the get-go, the painful screech of “North Bottoms” opening lyrical barrage only goes further to galvanize this albums despicability. While the cacophonous guitar wreckage and heathenry drumming hold a degree of euphony, these assets are lost beneath the brutal caterwauling of Ian, BCBs lead singer and the dastardly villain behind this records future as a beer coaster in most listeners living rooms. While the liner notes implore the listener to “Please play this record loud,” the only way youll want to play this disc is over your great grandmothers earphones as youre trying to make some headway into her generation or so worth of waxy buildup. And even then, shell probably pull the phones from her wrinkly, liver spotted forehead and beat you about the face and neck with them for torturing a helpless old lady.