Fisting Clint, I mean Clenched Fists Welcome to Memphis is a prime example of hardcore anger colliding with idiocy. Juicy Joels vocals reek of moldy, cheesy MC bravado the remaining decomposing fetal tissue of that Limdickstick mentality. Juicy delivers this stagnant flow like Cro-Magnon man on the verge of descending into the cave (thats Plato folks). Something along the line of Hey you rhymes with two rhymes with moo would have been Juicys standout lyric had he been capable of using hand gestures to communicate something so profound.
The rest of the band sounds similar to early 90s hate metal, like Nailbomb. The drummer, somebody or other, nearly redeems the album with intricate beats that stabilize a raging guitar combining to form a curious quality of time and speed. But oh no!!! Here comes the Juice man G to ruin the fun. His seizure inducing style of yelling makes it impossible to hear the words, thus realize his stupidity wait just a minute I’ve got a brilliant idea. Go get the album (Ill send you mine), but toss the lyric sleeve in the trash and convince yourself the band is Brazilian and Juicy is yelling in Portuguese.
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