Sometimes you have these albums that are instantly likeable, and then sometimes there are these releases, that no matter how hard you try to like, you just can't seem to bring it up. Without doubt, this is such a release. All over the line, there's nothing really mindsticking enough for me to say: yeah this does it, this is what makes this latest The Real McKenzies release worth your holy smuckaroonies.

Just going by the cover, you'll quickly realise TRM are another celtic punk band, a fact that is undeniably true if you listen to these tracks or if you have seen these guys live. They are by no means any match for bands like The Tossers, Dropkick Murphy's or Flogging Molly. Hell no, if anything, they excell at one thing: drinking beer and having fun. I can almost see the beerstains on my CD booklet, the yeasty stench belching from unseen and unwanted droplets of the well-loved moisture. No, if you want the "Good" stuff, you best check one of these other bands out. This is mediocre, uninspired and extremely generic at best, and only mildly amuses me on a number of occasions. I mean, each and every one of these songs twiddle along at midpace, there is no Punch, no Explosiveness, no Melodicy at all and i can hardly discern any chorus. Admittedly, the bagpipe gives a nice ring to a coupple of bad tracks, but can't nearly undo the damage of the poor songwriting displayed. The vocals are nowhere near satisfactory as well, as they bore rapidly and they are really monotonous, with no discernable shift in heights. No, TRM should practice what they preach and buy themselves another bottle of whiskey (or 10), and maybe then we'll see something worthwile (I know the Celtic legacy is intertwined with teh yellow brew and draught, but this is really out of proportion). At least "The Night The Lights went Out In Scotland" saves this album a little bit, and the bagpipe player should get a medal of honour for lifting this release to higher spheres.