Irish Coffee

Thick and creamy proto-metal slop from these Belgians on their only long player, this album floats on a layer of hockey rink keyboards and Quaalude delirium. The guitar chases its own tail in great flaming loops as the muffled rhythm section choogles on behind a thick, nasty fog. Of special note are the vocals, which range from hoarse gospelish bellowing to syrupy multiple harmonizing to mushmouthed mumbling, often in the same song. I like my coffee the way I like my rock and roll:
Fucking weird.