Sir Andrew Murcock Livingston,

We at the blue hook thought it was only fair, that we got to have as much fun as you did writing that review. For a Zen Buddist with a love for meditation I sensed a lot of anger and maybe a little PMS. Enjoy.

From the desk of the National Reviews of Reviewers Society:

0 out of 10, ouch, I thought reviews at least got a one for spelling their band name correctly. Mr. Livingston starts the review with the kind of hate language a seventh grade boy hanging with his friends in the lunchroom would use. He starts with a truly unique lead, by making a generalized rant about his hatred towards record label cover letters. Managing to use up 50% of his 45 word review on something
that has nothing to do with the album he's reviewing. While it may be a valid point, perhaps it would be better served on a blog somewhere or perhaps as a post on the facebook group "Music Reviewers and Fart humor ". We enter his piece midway through the second verse with really only one conclusion, he is clearly pissed at his life and the world and is having a bad day. He uses the adjective "limpy, weak bar
band rock" to inaccurately describe a CD with songs in several genres, multiple heavy grind it out Rock and Blues songs and features several Mandolin tracks, Trombone, Violin, Sax, 12 String and a big muff (The nastiest of all distortion pedals). Atypical of the traditional bar band rock. As the second verse continues, Murcock really starts to gather some momentum, lashing one razor sharp insult after another. It is here, where he has his one moment of truth and the only thing worth reading.

"I've never heard vocals pushed more to the front of any album ever. And the faux-vocal strains are so bad you can hear every ounce of throat pleading for recognition of integrity."

An astute observation, eliquently stated, he shows a glimpse of what he could become, or perhaps once was, an actual writer. He intuitively exaggerates his hatred, adding drama, and extra pizzazz to an
otherwise worthless piece of shit review. He comes across as a person who listened to the first two songs, and decided to bullshit his way to an ultimate low point in his journalism career. He continues to lay on the cheese and bury himself deeper in a hole filled with the bitterness of a has been and the inspiration level of a coat hanger. He continues to masturbate his ego till he explodes on himself in
delirium.

Overall, one leaves the review feeling shallow and naughty, wishing they had never experienced such a thing, and regretting that last click of the mouse. Still unclear of who's worse, the band or the reviewer, the reader leaves confused and dumber than he was 2 minutes ago. As such I am recommending that The National Reviews of Reviewers Society revoke Mr. Murcock's license. The best score I can award in
good conscious is -3 out of 10. Thank you for your time.

PS - We really loved your photo. The cocksuckers cramp and dick broom is top notch!