‘This is our future, baby.’ And so begins the rallying cry of the newest pastiche of over-the-top lewdness, tight synthesized beats, nastily buzzing multi-tracked guitars and all the general touchstones of depravity and tongue-in-cheek wit that’s been the standard of REVOLTING COCKS since conception. For those not in the know, RevCo’s been the on-again/off-again muse of MINISTRY leader AL JOURGENSON going on two decades. Since the hulking beast that was Ministry has been left on the side of the road to clsoe out its life as a rusted monument as an original species to scuzzed-out industrial rock, Al’s decided to funnel his creative juices towards RevCo as a full-time endeavor. Looking back at Jourgenson’s career and comparing it to others, there’s plenty of instances where side projects deflect from the main band and offer a chance to focus on a particular interest, but I can’t recall any where the main creative force of both basically shut down the primary to focus on the secondary. I think it’s actually a pretty good decision, as the atmosphere of RevCo is a lot more fun; would you rather listen to a lecture from NOAM CHOMSKY or JELLO BIAFRA?

Salvaged from Ministry’s last (and final) record and tour are guitarist SIN QUIRIN and vocalist JOSH BRADFORD ( STAYTE, SIMPLE SHELTER) as well as CLAYTON WORBECK (who also logs time in Stayte with Josh, and provided remixing skills to recent Ministry songs) all of whom are on board for mark 23 of RevCo, and fit right in with the debauchery.

The massed shouts of ‘yeah yeah yeah’ of “Hookerbot 3000” recall hordes of drunken English football hooligans and Bradford’s decidely anglo-driven accent give rise to the notion that perhaps this future state servant will be programmed ‘to always come on cue’ somewhere in the UK; I hope they provide translations for ‘fanny’ and ‘ronson.’ Stylistically this album is a bit tighter than 2006’s Cocked and Loaded, mainly since the core group isn’t inundated with a revolving cast of cameos who streamed in and out of the studio for that recording. Another rousing, catchy chorus is pumped out in “Keys to the City” and now that you mention it, hell ya I want to rock.

A mis-step in the cock-rock department mars “Red Parrot,” where Sin’s squealing guitar tone is exactly the sort of thing that hair metal merchants like Poison or Ratt inflicted on the populace for far too long…no reason to dig up that mummy in this day and age. ‘Touch Screen’ has a slightly dated sound to it, and one could imagine MARC ALMOND exhorting others to “touch yourself” with the members of CLOCK DVA providing dark, moist clouds of guitar that shroud the silicon-generated beats. The sense of humor comes knocking at the door by the time “Robo Banditos” rolls into town: ‘they forgot about the power of RevCo/ found the rest now try the best/come take the test/we’ll try not to give you herpes’ and Bradford delivers this news in the most convincing PETER MURPHY intonation imaginable.

The highlight of the record is also the lead-off single, and “I’m Not Gay” was previewed on last year’s final Ministry tour. A rollicking mix of sleazy synth stabs and teutonic programmed beats give way to a stuttering denial of homosexuality, and then the floods gates open with the memorable chorus of ‘it’s hard to be a homo in the lone star state.’ One can envision a Dallas club packed with shirtless, hairless men wearing black patent cowboys boots, winkingly shouting this at the top of their collective lungs. The sweaty glamrock vapors that permeate Sex-O Olympic-O will fill the room once you tear the cellophane off of the cd.