The Angry Amputees make music that just doesn’t appeal to me anymore. My sole interest rests in hearing the band’s fingerless bass player, Dalty, and determining how well one can play bass without digits. This is sloppy punk, yeah, but he manages to hold his own very well. I’ve heard much worse musicians; that much is certain. Too bad the rest of the album isn’t nearly as noteworthy.
This is standard Bay area punk, from the same school Rancid and Green Day dropped out of ten years ago. I find it hard to believe that Gilman Street hasn’t reacted to this tired rehashing with one giant shrug before skanking off to find music with at least a little something new to offer. Singer Stacey Dee sounds like a tougher Gwen Stefani and uber-producer Jack Endino is right to push her straight to the front of the mix, but not even a strong voice can salvage much from these attitude-by-numbers lyrics. The ill conceived and poorly researched George W. bashing of “Dubya” is the true low point. With lines like “Your (sic) just an oil pumping hoe/ I want to take you’re (sic) selfish lies then punch your face/ stuffed in my trunk/ you’ll never kill the human race,” it’s just a shade less eloquent than, say, Bad Religion’s “Heaven is Falling” which was aimed at the elder Bush during the Gulf War. I certainly can’t recommend this album to anyone but the most voracious punk consumers. For anyone interested in checking out punk’s first fingerless bassist, download “No Mercy” and “Put Me to Bed,” listen to them a couple of times, then forget about them. You won’t be any worse for it.