You knew you were going to like the new Angelspit CD; that's a given. Shit, Luther, you didn't even break a sweat when the band went from a duo to a quintet — which, in the music world, is akin to Mike Brady suddenly announcing that Cousin Oliver has come to stay and play rhythm guitar. All aboard the next trolley to Suckitsville.
Still, you knew things would be OK because Angelspit had never let you down. Three CDs and just as many remixes in roughly five years and you never once felt the band had helped itself to either your wallet or your collection of vintage agricultural spank mags.
But what you never, not even for the tiniest fragment of one split second, suspected was that you were going to like Hello My Name Is as much as you do. And you fuckin' love it. You love every song, from the dystopian worker-drone anthem "Cubicle" all the way through the poisonously atmospheric "Violence." You can't get the dark pop insanity of "Defibrillator" out of your head. You've done your best to describe that song as "The B-52's meet The Sisters of Mercy," but it does no good. Your shrink just keeps doubling your meds.
Verdict: If your parents didn't get you Hello My Name Is for Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever it is that weird holiday is that Baptists celebrate (the one where they "gather 'round the ol' Glory Hole"), then they obviously never loved you and you're probably adopted.
