On the album's eleven tracks (almost all of them less than three minutes long), Ditto wails and hums like a head-nodding Southern Baptist in a church with no air conditioning on a Sunday in July. Movement has a good case of the choir claps as well as a lyrical style that echoes the repetitive incantations of Southern gospel: "Sun goes down, come back to me/Rivers rise, come back to me/Moon hang high, come back to me/Ohhh, let him come back to me."
Mendonca's simple, percussive drive on this album is superior, and Howdeshell's grimy wipe-your-forehead-and-keep-going guitar playing is on point. But the band probably hasn't reached its full potential yet. Ditto's Delta blues make her a standout -- if she turned down the punk (just a wee bit) and turned up the soul, it's possible she could go over like hot sauce on a Florida cracker's fingertips.
