Don’t let the cartoon lumber jack on the album sleeve fool you with its kaleidoscopic range. Once you wiggle your feet into Todd’s sound, immediately you’re sent into a swirl of distorted riffs, smash-a-cymbal-to-tiny-shards drumming with openers ‘Track Side Fire’ and ‘Happy Easter Florida’- yes they try it on with the soft track titles too. A barrage of moans, spasmodic yelps like a man just waking up after being shot with a tranquilizer is the acidic bomb blast your ears hasn’t to withstand from Craig Clouse’s throaty discernable vocals. It’s a threat to ones senses, lets not dance around this fact. But these London noisy doom merchants have a devout following, and unfortunately this may not swell due to the records coarse nihilistic aesthetics. It lapses into instrumental rehab for a while in the form of ‘France And IN France’ to allow some of your tortured senses to repair. But for the mean, this is Todd at their most psychotically abrasive, in this, their third offering and at the tail end they let rip the tune of the album punk-ridden ‘France And Out Of France’. However, from the outside, this is a very intriguing listening don‘t let me deter you. The murky depths of Todd are well worth a meander, just be sure to take protection.
