Kev skewered this lot with a ten word review in the last issue; now it's my turn. But where to begin? Well, there's that name, for a kick off, which is far less ironic than this Manchester trio would probably hope it is in their wildest dreams. And then there's the atrociously bad lyrics (how about "Every rhyme that I go to write has already been made", for example, or "I'm not exceptional", as a few unfortunate pointers to their own predicament, or "I'll fuck you up and shit you out like faeces" as an illustration of their eloquent prowess with language?), and the horribly derivative music that skitters around the place like an infant with attention deficit disorder. (The title track is presented in something called a "Short Attention Span Edit", although whether its brevity is for the benefit of artists or listeners is unclear.) And finally, what sort of realistic market is their likely to be for lumpy, desperately unconvincing, tuneless hip-hop when any 'mature' Beastie Boys album will illustrate the boundless potential the genre has when executed properly?

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