Billy Joe Winghead's brand of trash rock, juicing psychobilly and bar band sleaze through a blender, isn't quite as obnoxious, silly, and deliberately over-the-top as much of this sort of thing is. It's fairly obnoxious, silly, and over-the-top nonetheless. And like much such music, it's something of a one-trick pony, a joke that fails to sustain over the course of 18 songs. To their credit, the band can play in a bashing yet tight manner. Sung with a mocking sneer, the songs embrace the kind of topics dear to those who revel in low-life scumming pop culture: Branson, Missouri, sex in rest stop bathrooms, playing to near-empty crowds in Palookaville, and the faux horror movie rock of "Ozarkula." Throw in desecrations of the standards "Caravan," "Harlem Nocturne," and "Freebird," and sometimes you feel like you're sitting through a set by a competent bar band that's suddenly decided to try and sound like the Cramps.
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AllMusic Review by Richie Unterberger