What, you might ask, is haunting George? Well, apart from an overwhelming sense of silliness (he also goes by the name Weird George, Skullface George and Graverobber Steven, despite his mum calling him Steve Pallow, or perhaps Little Stevie), ‘American Crow’ suggests the desert recluse is tormented by The Cramps, Leatherface and that flesh-happy bloke from Silence of The Lambs, all of whom he could have quite easily butchered and eaten. George barks a doomy growl to speedy garage blues from the bottom of his bowels. He hacks up his bilious lyrics with demonic flare, shredding like a black metal high priest. And yet his hellishly fuzzy riffs and locomotive-rattling drums tear along with almost a cheery optimism that allows us to make it to the end of ‘American Crow’ not speaking ill of the dead but thanking them for the visit.

By Stuart Stubbs

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