***“Fuck Iggy Pop”—a crass, bluntly-put sentiment that couldn’t encapsulate Birmingham’s SCHIZO's any better—which, coincidentally enough, is another phrase that could easily be used to represent the Schizos: crass and bluntly-put. Being composed of nothing more than a vocalist—sounding as if he’s on the brink of mutually-assured destruction with everyone on the planet, a drummer making herself known through monotonous, drilling drum beats, and a synth player choosing to take a page out of the drummer’s book by keeping his aural eminence to a minimum, with sharp, quivering tones being his only contribution, it’s an absolute wonder how this record manages to make up for the vast pockets of negative space occupying its airwaves and remain engaging in spite of the sheer absurdity of their music. Devilish, deranged, and often times demented, the Schizo’s debut record is an oddly-captivating bout of synthpunk that probably doesn’t deserve to be nearly as good as it is—then again, people were probably saying the same sort of shit about Iggy Pop, right?
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