Todd. Just Todd.
Todd
Come To Your House
(Southern)
London’s noisemongers do their best to cave your skull in with this violent-ass, death train of an album.
Quoth The Joker: “The skulls, the bodies . . . you give it all such glow! I don’t know if it’s art, but I like it.” Come To Your House isn’t an album, it’s a rampage. Just when it gets uncontrollably fast, it manages to go faster. Just when you think you’ve dodged the truck, the door flies open to tattoo your forehead. But, unfortunately, just when you have something you might listen to, well, it disappears into a maelstrom of riffage as well.
2
— Kevin Keegan
