Imagine Kurt Weill conjuring up images of pre-war Berlin while a falsetto vocalist screams, squeaks and squawks his way through every number like some rambling madman, and you've got the picture. Their lyrics range from the subtle romanticism of "Sailors" to the outright blasphemous "Banging in the Nails". While the album deals with Jesus, prostitutes, junkies, deranged children and disillusioned angels, special vitriol is reserved for Slough. Apparently "It's grim up north but it's grimmer than that in Slough, I'll sing you a song if you drop a bomb on Slough". It's funny, weird, disturbing stuff. Review by Tim Arthur, Time Out Magazine, 9 November 1996