What a beau­ti­ful­ly de­ranged kind of mess, the sec­ond Al­bum by Trash­dog a.k.a. An­drew Jack­son, the dude al­so re­spon­si­ble for Austin, Texas la­bel Dig­i­tal Hot­dogs. I didn't ex­pect a lot of nor­mal­cy here to be­gin with, but nonethe­less i'm kind of as­ton­ished by the mas­sive amount of top notch good­ness scat­tered wild­ly across this record, es­pe­cial­ly af­ter i found Trashdog's first ef­fort to be of some­what in­con­sis­tent qual­i­ty. Rough­ly one third here con­sists of dumb jokes and var­i­ous shades of fuck­ing around. An­oth­er third turns out to be bril­liant­ly weird and in­ven­tive songcraft in a spec­trum of garage punk, pow­er pop, synth-/elec­tro punk and a tiny hint of glam. And as for the re­main­ing third, i'm some­what un­de­cid­ed in which of the first two cat­e­gories i should file that stuff. The whole of it makes for an awe­some, if at times over­whelm­ing, dis­ori­ent­ing roller coast­er ride. Some kind of white al­bum on stu­pid pills.