I don’t know how to begin with a summary of the aural pleasures provided by The Offspring’s newest and, let’s be honest, brownest offering.
It immediately snaps at your heels the second you open the case and by the time you put it in your CD player it’s positively foaming at the mouth even though it doesn’t have a mouth in the literal sense.
Press play and fireworks go off like the end of a really lovely party in Nottingham - but be careful. Too many listens and you can find it’s more like a bad, bad accident with a sparkler and a child’s eyes.
This disc is the sound of the younger generation rebelling against the older generation but then reacting back against themselves in an even more rebellious way. It evokes images of rolled up newspapers being used to whack kittens into waste paper baskets like some lunatic croquet match.
And the only way to describe the lyrics is that they fall out of the speakers and prostrate themselves on the floor - demanding to be picked up, chewed and then spat into the face of anyone who dares to wear a uniform or call themselves a ‘citizen’.
This album demands to be heard. And then demands to be put away properly in its case and put back in the right place in your alphabetically arranged CD collection.