The Spectres stomp to a primitive beat, but they're no retro-minded nostalgia act. Their kill-for-thrills classic '55 chassis is powered by a fire-breathing punk & roll engine, and injected with a macabre sense of humor. No frills, no gimmicks, just revved-up, stripped-down devil music. "Read it slow and loud, son: The Great Erotic Zombie Shakedown. Translation: frenzied psychobilly, horror tales and ghoul-eyed girls shakin' tail to songs like I'm Your Zombie and 1-800-E.V.I.L. What's not to love? The Spectres, Seattle's gift to hot rod raunch and dead wrecking music, continue to spread the Devil's gospel across the plains of North America with a third album of prime-evil rot 'n' roll music. The trio don't stray far from their legacy, though I loved country flourishes on Switching Heads and Satan's Honky Tonk, and the rattle bop mania of Top Fuel Armageddon. Crooner Jesse James knows how to tell a story; even when his fingers are burning up the fretboard, that's campfire heat in them songs. Too many good things here; get it or git gone! (5 skulls out of 5)" - Rue Morgue Magazine "The Spectres' third full-length release is chock full of grainy B-movie themes, demonic dancing dames, and malignant creature rock as they tell tales of monsters, heartbreak, and insanity. What I've always liked about the Spectres is the gritty guitar sound coupled with a primal rhythm section that delivers a variety of tempos and moods. Songs like "Hot Rod Hearse" "I'm a Monster" and "Grave Digger" are highly combustible psychobilly tunes that burn themselves into your head. "Top Fuel Armageddon" has a little Cramps flavor, while "Switching Heads" is a slower eerie number in 2/4 accompanied by accordion and sousaphone that will give you chills. After that you get "Fistful of Pesos," an outstanding Southwestern instrumental with the bleak landscape portrayed in ponderous guitar work, building up into a bombastic drama, then calming again for another exotic interlude. Elsewhere, "Howlin'" is another moody track with slide guitar as they prowl through an even creepier take on the Little Red Riding Hood tale. "Satan's Honky Tonk" rounds out the disc with a song about that wretched dive in hell where "they're all out of pretzels and they only serve light beer." Here you get piano, steel, and a great old-fashioned country sing-along with great lyrics. Throughout the disc you get some familiar riffs worked in (Folsom Prison Blues, Munster's Theme, Hot Rod Lincoln) - sometimes they are situated playfully inside their own unique compositions, re-worked and re-imagined... all in all I think this is some of their best work both musically and lyrically, and something that merits acclaim. It's brimming with thrills, chills, humor and heart... albeit a blackened one with calamity clotted inside the ventricles." - Rock & Roll Purgatory ". . . enough fire, brimstone and pure adrenaline to resurrect a dead man." - BackFire "It's gritty, grease-slicked devil's music; barbaric bare-bones rock 'n' roll at it's most intense, exciting, and exuberant!" - The Grindstone