Label: Sub Pop Records
Clearly still misanthropic messengers of mundanity even if you can only make out snatches of complaint, these Allentown, Penn. reprobates spend most of their fourth set yanking their dirty, dirgey glop downward with basslines anchored Flipper-style deep beneath the Lehigh River. They tell a "Teenage Adult" not to grow up; "Cafeteria Food" snarls at a "stick-figure family" stuck to some car. Now and then, a hook surfaces: Stranglers melody in "Bathroom Laughter," garage riff in "Cathouse," and the guitars in the doctor-shunning "Health Plan" catapult out the gate like mid-'80s Hüsker Dü.