Say goodbye to your happy place.
Good. Now that we your attention...
It could be said that such a name is a shallow stunt, but listen to this thrashed up angry mess and you'll see why they might even need to include a few more 'whores' in their title (and maybe in blood red capitals). Everything is on full-tilt here, with spasmoid cuts and changes, blistering drumming and a vocalist that has possibly forgotten how to talk and instead screams all the time ('ONE TO THE TOWN CENTRE PLLLLAAAAAYZ! THANK YAAARRGH!'). It certainly sounds that way... Either that or he eats sandpaper as a form of protest to residential council planning... Oh how the dulcet tones tantalisingly play so coyly on the lobes!
It's as if the whole album is one great big tease and they are actually daring you to sing along or remember anything bar the evil and pure intensity they mercilessly shove up your orifices. Any traces of pleasantness or a conventional song is quickly scribbled over and crapped all over, so don't even try pick up the pieces. In fact, there isn't one part of this collection of knives that doesn't hurt you and so you'll have to be a sucker for punishment if you want to get into this.
But if you were forced to choose a track that didn't make you wet your pants in fright and force you into a psychopathic episode, then... THEN... OH GOD... IT'S... YOU AGAIN. HOW... HOW DID YOU GET HERE?! Please... Oh, please. No. God! NO!
(There are tiny little lights in our bodies – sparks from the fires in rural gas stoves. And they eat us away, hour by hour, second by second. You can hear them laughing inside you if you bunch up real tight... But beware! The harpies in the clouds are watching and if we try to put these fires out by digging them out of our bodies, they will swoop down and cut off our heads. Ask your local tobacconist, he'll tell you all about it for a small fee and a pinch of your nipple.)
THIS is what we are talking about, ladies and gentlemen! Filth! Pure degradation that rots the mind and leaves you mumbling incoherencies all the way to the drugs cabinet! If there are things to remember, then the mad cloak of rushed madness that billows out after it will quickly whisk it away from you, leaving you confused and shaking. For this one, big reason and explanation behind W.W.W. it is mortally impossible to give them an adequate rating. It's good, but like swallowing supermarket value bleach, it's an acquired taste. And it'll possibly leave you dead in a short while, so you won't be able to warn or encourage others.
'Unicorn', despite having some very comprehensive build ups and guitar parts, is best described (if you want to go past analogies and poncy, clever metaphors) as a crossbred of Mr. Bungle and a hardcore something (punk bands like F-?). They make everyone else sound like a castrated Celine Dion.