staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once. that my friends is how you get down with the wild things. not these wild things though. gawking into these buggers yellow eyes will entitle you to nothing less than a harrumph of disgruntlement and a dry slap for your tomfoolery. no this max and said wild things are from nashville, tennessee. they play a kindof funked up country punk wait come back… nah that was unfair of me. there’s something of cake about them; genre mashing where you get y’know motown strut and horns, fuzzy geetar strammash and a buncha devo-esque vocals in one song then some rhythm and blooze stomp, modern lovers skewerry and a big fucking banjo on the next. this being nashville there’s songs about women (probably some references to drinking as well). hell there’s a whole mess of cliches i could drag out my big lazy writers bag. but i won’t. i offer only my manly love for this little record. in fact the only thing better on here than saturday in may, the aforementioned broken heart song, is rocketship go. which after a satanik 1-2-3-4-5-6-6-6 count-in offers up some deliciously wonky pop. imagine the fuzzy balladeering and new-wave-isms that westerberg indulged in on the replacements let it be (but with extra bass blubber) and yr halfway there. my time machine is on, the world i know is gone. could’ve been a sendak line / metaphor. but you don’t have to uber-intellectualise, overindulge any freudian analysis of childhood anger or discuss over a nice chablis whether the thirty page illustrated kids book is in fact a very clever critique of post colonial attitudes in the west. nope. all you have to do is head to the links below, swap cash for songs and turn way the fuck up.

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