The singles off this album are, to me, a little anaemic; but the gothic roar and devil-may-care showmanship throw off their radio-friendly coverings and give you the old what for elsewhere, thank goodness. Numbers like Under My Chin, with its highly theatrical and hip-smashing swing, or the thunderous psychobilly of Monsieur Cutts are most welcome. Not exactly groundbreaking, but especially since we thought we might not ever get them back, it's nice to have The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster back with us again.