Initially, upon hearing the fact that this band were wrapped up in the sXe scene, I had some naughty ideas. Ideas such as drinking a large amount of alcohol, imbibing in some illegal substances, or engaging in sexual activity prior to/while writing this review. Then, of course, I chickened out, because I can barely stand when I'm drunk, let alone write coherently, because I'm too spineless to purchase drugs, and because I'm too ugly to get close enough to a girl to have sex with her. So instead, I'm sitting here, sipping on a carbonated beverage, and wondering just why someone decided to pay for the release of this rubbish.

Casey Jones are a hardcore punk band. I'm not sure when being a hardcore punk band gave you a licence to release twenty minutes of incoherent shouting and Sabbath-inspired riffs and call it an album, but apparently you can, because here we are. Oh, and there's a lot of swearing on this album too, because while smoking a cigarette is apparently a crime on a par with murdering millions of defenceless Eskimos, mindless profanity is A-OK.

It's hard to describe just how dumb this music is. From songs which are as stupid as their titles, such as If Your (sic) Smoking In Here You Better Be On Fire and Dead Kid Try A Nice Memorial Tattoo, to embarrassing atrocities of songs like Strike Hard, which has the most basic riffs imaginable, with the words "Strike Hard" repeated ad-nauseum throughout the entire song, there is very little to like here. Even on a parody level, the music is horrible, because everything is played with such sincerity that it's hard to believe that they don't believe in what they're saying. Of course, there's nothing wrong with being sincere on your beliefs, so long as you don't make yourself look like a tit while you're doing it.

All in all, this is pretty much the worst new release I've heard so far this year. Sure, we might only be eleven days into 2004 at the time I'm writing this, so I'm sure that something worse will pop up at some point, but I've got a feeling that "The Few, The Proud, The Crucial" will still appear on my end-year list of worst new music. For the love of God, stay away from this, I beg you. Don't even buy it out of morbid curiosity. Now, I'm off to have a drink to dissolve the traumatic experience of writing about this record in a stupor of drunkenness.

Initially, upon hearing the fact that this band were wrapped up in the sXe scene, I had some naughty ideas. Ideas such as drinking a large amount of alcohol, imbibing in some illegal substances, or engaging in sexual activity prior to/while writing this review. Then, of course, I chickened out, because I can barely stand when I'm drunk, let alone write coherently, because I'm too spineless to purchase drugs, and because I'm too ugly to get close enough to a girl to have sex with her. So instead, I'm sitting here, sipping on a carbonated beverage, and wondering just why someone decided to pay for the release of this rubbish.

Casey Jones are a hardcore punk band. I'm not sure when being a hardcore punk band gave you a licence to release twenty minutes of incoherent shouting and Sabbath-inspired riffs and call it an album, but apparently you can, because here we are. Oh, and there's a lot of swearing on this album too, because while smoking a cigarette is apparently a crime on a par with murdering millions of defenceless Eskimos, mindless profanity is A-OK.

It's hard to describe just how dumb this music is. From songs which are as stupid as their titles, such as If Your (sic) Smoking In Here You Better Be On Fire and Dead Kid Try A Nice Memorial Tattoo, to embarrassing atrocities of songs like Strike Hard, which has the most basic riffs imaginable, with the words "Strike Hard" repeated ad-nauseum throughout the entire song, there is very little to like here. Even on a parody level, the music is horrible, because everything is played with such sincerity that it's hard to believe that they don't believe in what they're saying. Of course, there's nothing wrong with being sincere on your beliefs, so long as you don't make yourself look like a tit while you're doing it.

All in all, this is pretty much the worst new release I've heard so far this year. Sure, we might only be eleven days into 2004 at the time I'm writing this, so I'm sure that something worse will pop up at some point, but I've got a feeling that "The Few, The Proud, The Crucial" will still appear on my end-year list of worst new music. For the love of God, stay away from this, I beg you. Don't even buy it out of morbid curiosity. Now, I'm off to have a drink to dissolve the traumatic experience of writing about this record in a stupor of drunkenness.