Throw away your fucking reverb pedals cuz OBN III's are bringing the pub rock fury of greats like Johnny Moped to the party again. After a string of destroyers now on wax, the OBN III's have gained a rep for an insane live show and balls out, snot-rock crunchers. Always avoiding the horribly sideways trappings and trap-doors of stupid gadgety, hollow gimmickry, and meaningless high fashion tomfoolery. This is a slap in all those folks faces, and your official breath of fresh air as the time tested beast of hard rock steps out again. Their S/T album is a sinister, straight up rock/punk/hard rock record. Solid songs and dark vibes. The beef. Not the weird fish taco. Solos that burn your tonearm off while it wiggles to keep up with shredding guitars. Bonehead sluggers chugging along, beating in the undercurrent, until you're suddenly pulled into the undertow before you can say ‘this guy is in BAD SPORTS?!’ You will HEAR the lyrics as they condemn your useless life of blogging and whining about it. There will be no Roland space echo. You will hear it once. And it will tap into the primitive Stooge lava we all have dormant in our brains, encrusted from dry dreck, curiously awaiting eruption. So quit trying to sound like the Oh Sees. Stick your head out the window and get a sniff. These are the darkest, heaviest, best chrystalized songs to date from Austin's great sons.