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IF
LOVE On An Oil Rig is anything to go by, I won't be applying for membership to
Victorian English Gentlemens Club anytime soon.
Because the album, the Welsh three-piece group's second, is like an in-joke that I just don't understand.
It's deliberately obtuse but not funny, and the punk indie rock music on show is wonky to the point of being unlistenable, with only
The Venereal Game actually passable as a standalone track.
Even the band's name, with its missing apostrophe, gets my dander up.
One is not amused.
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