Tucson Weekly 10.8.98
WHEN SPERM FROM members of Devo and the Dickies met with DNA from Wendy O. Williams and then gestated in
the Arizona desert for a few years, The Weird Lovemakers were born. These plasmatic Tucson sea monkeys are clearly
inspired by junk-pop culture, cartoons, caffeine, Charles Willeford and loads of circa-1977 punk 45s. Flu Shot is an
hilarious three-chord romp across the Lovemakers wild and wacky musical panorama, stoked by a 10-ton rhythm guitar
bombast from Jason Willis; Gerard Schumacher's snappy, controlled drumming; and Hector Jaime's rock-solid, propulsive
bass streaks. The Lovemakers wholly unique, vulgar sound is cemented by singer-guitarist Greg Petix and his constipated
Leonard Graves Phillips-on-helium vocal histrionics. The 22 blasts of aural TNT on the Lovemakers' second album of
garage-hatched punk rock rage are fueled by the unmistakable Devo-influenced "Trailer Anne," the absolute instrumental
bizarreness of "Turbo Rat," and the highly improbable Rezillos-meet-Mr. Spock "Letter To Starlog." These goofballs even
blaze a trail across a mosh pit during the relentless hardcore fury of "O.C.P." To enjoy every ounce of the Lovemakers
embraceable weirdness, check out the totally indecipherable "Retard Sandwich," with its creepy Moog-equipped sci-fi
shenanigans. The Lovemakers are all about having a good time and poking fun at themselves and life's minor absurdities.
Thankfully, unlike some of today's mightier-than-thou punk groups, they left their political agenda in the dumpster. With any luck, the Lovemakers will persevere and avoid being obscure entries on the next Killed By Death compilation, and a
microscopic footnote in punk trivial pursuit.