Demented Are Go Psychotic Mutilation Review
Demented Are Go
Psychotic Mutilation
Sunny Bastards Records
2025
If you know me, and if you don’t, you should - you’re aware that beneath my Metal-plated heart throbs the undead, twitching pulse of a Rockabilly/Psychobilly fiend. I’m stitched together from roadkill DNA and the ectoplasmic sweat of Lux Interior, the Stray Cats, Johnny Cash, and whatever is left of the mad bastards who once wandered the halls of Sun Records covered in pomade and gasoline.
I’m equal parts Rock Warrior and roadside Honky Tonk exorcist. But here’s the dirty little secret: while Metal labels chuck promos at me like candy at a deranged parade, the Psychobilly world is crickets. Tumbleweeds. A genre still alive and howling, but the labels act like no one wants to hear it unless there’s a pin-up girl humping a Rat Rod in the background and a dude in a leather jacket explaining to no one how he used to "tour with The Cramps." Newsflash: Psychobilly ain't dead, it's undead, it's thriving, and it smells like blood, beer, and burned rubber.
Demented Are Fucking Go have risen from the grave with "Psychotic Mutilation", their first slab of sonic mayhem in 13 damn years, courtesy of Sunny Bastards Records. I didn’t expect this to happen, hell, I half-suspected Sparky had exploded in a cloud of whiskey, pills, and bat wings years ago. But nope, the maniac lives, and he’s dragging his band of miscreants with him, cackling into the void, and folks… THEY HAVE NEVER SOUNDED THIS GOOD.
This isn’t just another album. This is a razorblade valentine to the unhinged, a blues-soaked, gasoline-gargling inferno of everything that makes DAG the deranged royalty of Psychobilly. It’s slicker than the old days, sure, no tape hiss, no puke-on-the-microphone production, but that’s not a complaint, it’s a weapon.
And Sparky - the man’s a shaman. A menace. A walking Horror show fronting a dive-bar sermon for the beautifully damned. His voice has aged like a black leather glove pulled off a corpse, worn in, full of stories, and ready to slap you in the soul. Anyone crying "sellout" can shut their yap and go choke on a bottle of Brylcreem, DAG ain’t chasing trends, because there’s no mainstream left for them to sell out to. These guys built the house, then set it on fire and pissed on the ashes.
Track by track, Psychotic Mutilation is a murder spree of bangers. Opener “Black Valium” struts in like a junkie preacher before detonating into a galloping, brain-splitting freakout that’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the jukebox. From there, “Out of Reach” picks up the bat and breaks your knees, pure Hellbilly Storm era power with enough snot and swagger to raise the dead. Then comes “Chasing Rainbows”, which proves the band isn’t just chaos merchants, they’ve got chops. Tight, mean, and full of enough electricity to bring Frankenstein’s monster back for an encore.
But then we hit “Cast A Lonesome Shadow” and holy hell, it’s like the moon cracked in half and a duet fell out. Sparky and Emanuela Hutter (The Hillbilly Moon Explosion) are back together, and it's nothing short of necromantic bliss. Their chemistry is nuclear. If there’s any justice in this cruel, neon-lit hellscape, they’ll record a duet every time a comet passes overhead. This one’s got a touch of New Wave shimmer to it, I blame the guitar tone, but it works, goddamn does it work.
And if you’re frothing for classic DAG gore-splatter nonsense, “Dismembered Hand” is here to rip your spine out and make you dance like its prom night in the ninth circle of Hell. It’s mean, it’s fast and everything you hoped and feared it would be.
Let’s not mince words. Psychotic Mutilation is the sound of a band clawing its way out of the grave, middle fingers up, bared teeth, and ready to drag you down into the smoke and fury. It’s one of the best Psychobilly albums not just of the year, but of the past decade. Period. Full stop. Put it on my Top 10 of 2025 now and carve its name into the wall.
You don’t question Sparky. You don’t second-guess DAG. And you sure as hell don’t look this gift horse in the mouth unless you’re ready to get trampled and bitten.
God bless Demented Are Go. God damn them too. Whatever cosmic force keeps Sparky on this earth, keep doing your evil work, we need him, and we need this kind of music now more than ever.