Holy crap, this is great! The jacket on this one definitely recalls the early Reatards records, and fortunately so does the sound... piss-raw garage with more than a heap of melody, sort of like the Reatards' catchiest stuff mixed with the Spits (there aren't any keyboards here, but some of the guitars are so processed and weird-sounding that they could be). I'm kind of wondering if Jay Reatard didn't really die, but just faked his death so that he could come back as a teenager from Baltimore and do a super raw bedroom recording project. Seriously, get this! Garage turkeys will be raving about this guy soon if they aren't already, but these three songs are so killer they deserve to be heard by everything.