At the moment this album is making me feel queasy but in a disturbingly nice way.
The queasy you get when another peaty single malt is sliding down and you are unsure whether it's a good idea. I mean, it's 2.20am, you really should be in bed but the lure of another is strong. I'll just finish this and be in bed by 2.30. Easy. Your tastebuds are relishing the shooting firework moments that are exploding all around so much that another wee one, and a later bed time, might be on the cards. Nothing going on in the morning anyway. And then it turns, as though that extra malt had pushed it all too far. Such a stupid idea. What was I thinking. I'm nearly 60. I have things wrong with me. I should have gone to bed hours ago. I'm going to feel like shit when daylight comes.
Awake, bleary, and in that mid semi conscious fug you glance at the time. 8.40. Six hours sleep give or take. Not enough, never enough. Bloody whisky. Always gets the blame for my weak willed night time splurges.
A weird album for sure. Listen to it with the right circumstances, see above, and it's a fantastic mood matcher. Middle of the afternoon, sun beating down, fan assistance hardly working, tea on the go and it's a completely different beast. But I like completely different beasts.
I'm also getting the delicious disjointedness of Faith No More at their peak. And that's a very good thing.
8/10