After a stint on Nitro that yielded the Roger MiretĖproduced Fuel for Life, these NYC greaser-punks have hooked up with the stellar Bay Area label Gearhead on this, their fourth album. They also trade Miret for Blag Dahlia (Dwarves), whose production here is rougher around the edges than that on his other recent project, the new Swinginí Utters disc. Thatís fine with the Turbo A.C.ís, whose album covers have always professed a love for fast women and fast cars ó from which their streetwise roar naturally follows. Frontman Kevin Coleís biting sarcasm is the star of the show: "I can see the future, and in the future youíre nothing, baby," he howls on "The Future." Cole is no pop guy, but he definitely likes a good sing-along, as the riotous one-two punch "Mafioso" and "Nightmare" attest. His surf-guitar leads are the bandís lone element of sophistication, though their hardcore reworking of the instrumental-rock classic "Apache" is more rowdy than it is sophisticated. "Itís all we know, all systems go, itís just automatic," he sings on the title track, as the rhythm section sucks wind behind him. Just the kind of high-octane fun youíd expect from a band with a skull and crosswrenches for a logo.
(The Turbo A.C.ís perform this Friday, June 6 at the Met Café in Providence, call 401-861-2142; this Saturday, June 7 at Skater Paradise in Framingham, call 508-665-5012; and Sunday, June 8 at the Middle East in Cambridge, call 617-864-EAST.)