Cold Meat hail from Perth, Western Australia, but truly these are siren songs for every woman getting fucked over in every corner of this sorry planet, oozing total defiance and sneering, caustic rage across five certified slappers. They hex lazy pricks and bad bastards with a spell of spectacular jangeloid riffs and clattering anarcho toms, each track upping the stakes like a praying mantis - fuck, decapitate, eat corpse for nourishment. Vocalist Ashley's throaty, spit-splashed lyrics cover the full gamut from the care burden placed on mothers ('Maternity Stomp') to the psychic burden of hating men while craving dick ('Meat Joy'). This is incisive, tongue-in-arse-cheek, indefatigably Now punk. Cold Meat will have you fisting the air, but only if you lube up first.
