"He's a boy, you wanted a girl so cut off his cock, tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want..."
The only part of their history I care for, for about 7 months in '94 they were one of the best bands on the planet, going from average glam rock before to fairly MOR pop-rock after. These 13 songs were the pinnacle. A hateful, self-loathing, despairing record that many speculate was Richie Edwards' suicide note. Ignoring the cult around him, this album stands alone as an alternative masterpiece. Their legendary final London Astoria shows with Edwards were a band on the cusp of true genius, which was never realised, but this album comes pretty damn close.