The Crucifucks

Our Will Be Done (1992)

Brandon

Ah, now what a wacky wee platter this is: early-to-mid-`80s super-angry hardcore politicopunk from a sociopathic-sounding 6'9" nutter ranting about murdering cops, bombing holiday parades, about being more (self-)'righteous' than fellow political activists, supporting Gadaffi (ask yer parents -- before yer time), cutting off the president's head and mailing it to Christians (whom he wants to torch) in a garbage bag, taking LSD and psychotically praying that army planes crash and then taking credit for it when it happens, hating the media and government and people in general…QUALITY MAYHEM.

If these ingredients listed here are your cup of vitriol (and let's face it, who DOESN'T like that kind of weird, damaged shit?) then buy this CD. It's the only two albums the band ever put out combined on one disc, and both albums sound somewhat different. Winsonsin, the second (which I used to have on blue vinyl, back in the daze when people bought such a thing) throws weird Native American Indian and acoustic stuff through the insanely angry mix (Doc Dart, the singer, has the worst 'singing' voice you will ever hear -- it's pure satire, and obviously a huge influence on Joey Vindictive of the Vindictives, another bitter, angry, sneering, self-righteous, pathetic-sounding fool of a man) to create a vastly different sound to the first album, which is more of the early `80s hardcore politicopunk-inspired variety.

If you're angry and murderous and sociopathic and bitter and sick and an obnoxious prick, buy this; you'll love it. And be amused to learn that wee Doc Dart now works in a gas station in Michigan. Ironic for somebody so anti-corporate…karmic almost. What goes around comes around, eh?