Life magazine once featured Franklin, IN in a 1940 photo essay, which explains a lot about the twisted nature of Mr. Clit and the Pink Cigarettes. Being an outsider in a Norman Rockell-esque town would certainly lead to psychosis, channeled here in musical form by three unbalanced individuals whose true calling was probably a circus sideshow.
Comprised of Mr. Clit on guitar and vocals, with his female counterparts on bass, drums and vocals, the band nod heavily to the trashy garage rock popularized by Crypt Records in the ’90s, as well as Touch & Go noise rock from the same era. There’s also a particular endearing quality, perhaps in the production, reminiscent of LA punk band The Orphans. All of this makes for excellent music, of course, but the deal is truly sold by the Manson Family vibe that resonates throughout the album, especially in the male/female call-and-response of “Mother Might Be Wrong” and the sleazy blues of “White Cow.” On “Dead Men Don’t…,” the girls take the vocal reigns for an exceptionally chilling effect, while “Drugs Make You Cute” really brings out the cult-like characteristics.
As far as underground punk albums go, this is one to hold on to and keep in steady rotation. It’s a perfect balance between trash, noise and brainwashing that feeds perfectly into a brain soaked with alcohol in an effort to escape the past week of mindless drudgery. Personally, I’m converted and ready to join the circus.
