Cougars

Imagine Fugazi getting rammed up the ass by the horn section of Tower of Power. That violent sexual funkiness is the exact sound captured by this eight-piece monstrosity of a band. Playing dirty rock’n’roll in a dazzlingly unique and original way, Cougars blow through ten tracks of pure musical mayhem in just over half an hour. Constantly challenging the listener to rewind in an effort to figure out what the hell just happened, the songs on Nice, Nice are not only allowed room to grow, but room to learn trumpet, sell the trumpet for moonshine, and vomit everywhere. There are pieces of restraint, such as the quiet sax solo in the bridge of "Flatbush,” but these are momentary respites from the almost constant aural onslaught, meant to lull you into a sense of comfort before you find yourself getting smashed in the face with a distorted keyboard and trachea-tearing vocal assault. Entirely original and completely peerless, Cougars’ first full-length record proves that despite what everyone is saying, rock still has new territory to explore — and rape, and pillage, and burn to the ground.