| Loose and booty bar fight rock music played exactly
the way I'm too young to remember it. THE
LITTLE KILLERS lay it down with no frills, bypassing the
fuck out of all the other NYC train-jumpers you're currently digging.
"Pucker Up" is the best track cuz it's got a girl-sung
chorus that's so cute you'll have to break a chair over someone's
head just to work off the adrenaline. If you've ever been
hungry for Saints, X, or Victims, don't be ignorant and sleep
on this. Thank me later.—Vice
Magazine, 9 out of 10
"You can't put your arms around a memory," the late
scuzz-guitar god Johnny Thunders once opined. Thankfully, though,
some bands can – and do – embrace the chaotic rock
& roll ethos that Thunders embodied with the New York Dolls
and the Heartbreakers. Consider THE LITTLE
KILLERS, a hopped-up New York City trio whose eponymous
debut album on Crypt Records is a beautiful mess of rampaging
riffs and addled attitude (you've gotta love a band whose idea
of a romance lyric is "Now let's make a mess outta your life
and mine"). The Killers – singer-guitarist Andy
Maltz, bassist Sara Nelson, and drummer Kari Boden – knock
out 10 churning originals and a smokin' cover of the Rascals'
"Come On Up" in just under 28 minutes. Already, grimy
scenesters are starting to praise the Killers as the greatest
development in cheap thrills since the introduction of 40-ounce
bottles of malt liquor – but don't let that stop you from
checking them out.—Entertainment Weekly,
A MINUS
THE LITTLE KILLERS rock and THE
LITTLE KILLERS roll. There isn't much more to it than that.
This is their first record and you would be hard-pressed to find
another garage-punk-country-blues-pop band that is better than
them. Their record is streamlined three chords and a curled-up
lip-lock that isn't a copy of anyone. Or in thrall to anyone.
The White Stripes? Too ironic and self-aware. The Hives? Not tuneful
enough. The Strokes? Way too '70s. This list could go on and on
but shouldn't and won't because all that really matters is the
joyful noise (on teenage blasts like "Butterfingers,"
the cute "Pucker Up," and "Choppin' Block")
that this N.Y.C. trio makes. Every song is tough as tough, a lo-fi
but not sloppy blend of guitar howl and gutter croon that speeds
past in a half-hour that feels like five minutes. Not a duff track
to be found, this is probably the best record THE
LITTLE KILLERS will ever make and it is one of the best
rock & roll records of 2003. Pure rock with a sock. If that's
what you like, THE LITTLE KILLERS
got it and got it good.—All Music Guide,
4 1/2 STARS!!!
... a gimmick-free, no-frills grindfest of lo-fi amusements—the
kind of slightly diabolical, casually sleazy stuff your Satanic
hog mechanic would sandwich between Johnny Cash and Pussy Galore
on a long-lost off-the-wagon weekend. Slurry rants about no-good
chicks like "Jenna Lee" and "Messin' Around"
are set to jagged Johnny Thunders licks and wailing, Stonesy honky-skronk;
"Pucker Up" finds the band as sloppy as a drunk's kiss
but just coherent enough to fool a cop...consider yourself privy
to the greatest obscure American garage-rock band this side of
the Mummies. —Boston Phoenix
THIS IS THE REAL THING, MOTHAFUCKER!!! THE
LITTLE KILLERS got the fucking goods and you'll be crankin'
this baby up over and over in disbelief! For some real gone shit
that will change your life, check out THE
LITTLE KILLERS NOW! —Dave the
Spazz, WFMU
Best garage punk band in the USA. —blankgeneration.com
It's not often you come across such a perfect and timeless mix
of rock'n'roll...THE LITTLE KILLERS
have made a classic LP and saved rock'n'roll in the early 21st
century. —Savage Magazine
This is some raw, dirty, put-your-ass-in-motion rock n' roll...one
of those records that'll make you believe in rock n' roll again".—Cyclops
Zine, 4 STARS!!
If you can imagine a head-on collision twixt prime Velvets, NY
Dolls 'n Saints you're about halfway there. Easily the best new
band on the scene. —Next Big Thing
...the throttling guitars of The Stooges, the wild-man abandon
of Little Richard and the headbutting antagonism of The Saints,
distilled into two-minute bursts of white heat so blinding it
needs no more than two chords to make it perfect. —Logo
Magazine
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