Four Star review - the Weekend Australian.

The awkward propinquity of Russ Meyer and George Orwell in the title of David Thrussell's latest opus is surely deliberate. B (for Breasts) film-maker Meyer and misfit novelist Orwell both offered a jagged, refracted vision of life, Thrussell and his mates in Snog also invite you to squirm in your seat at the thought of how you got to where you are. Musically Beyond the Valley of the Proles is spectacular - a deceptively simple lushness pierced by Thrussell's stalking voice and contemptuous narratives. Bad Planet opens like a door to a dimly lit room, glittering shards rapidly growing more luminescent until the strained handclaps of its "dog eatin' dogs" lurch to the mid-ground. Businessman wants to be county rock for a moment but quickly chases down the electronic underpinning central to Thrussell's pained grip on unreality. Fill My Hole comes straight from outer space to blast away any bright-eyed notion of a salvageable humanity ("Friend, won't you please, fill my hole, it's located at the bottom of my soul.") The uncomfortable humour of Welcome to Adelaide, buttressed by a layered, disjointed tunefulness, continues with Justified Homicide, a weirdly beautiful hymn to a new world order. Waiting is a frighteningly apt summary: "I've been smoking some grass, watching days go past, enjoying your pain, pissing in the rain, waiting for the world to end..."

Stephen Fitzpatrick.