Human Switchboard
Who's Landing in My Hangar?

Magnificent, lost in the American post-punk stew.

They're not punk, they're not post.

Forgotten in the drawer like a t-shirt that comes back into fashion after years, and if you're not ingrasto, you wear it.

They're not a t-shirt, they are a magnificent album.

A lot of L. Reed. Late '60s memories with farfise in Television-style melodies without virtuosity.

Dylan and crossing the ocean, the Only Ones.

Sounds as sticky as gum under the sole, you walk and you smell it.

Maybe like dog poop, but trust me, this is a great album and by the way, dog poop brings good luck.