Acceptance of these densely layered offerings comes easily, right from the opening invitation to "take a chance and step out of the light" ("Have A Real"). Barbed-wire kisses tasting like psycho candy are met head-on, puckering with black lipstick on smooches such as "Wrecked My Car" (Caddy hearse stalled on its way to an '89 Love And Rockets gig), "At Our Rendevous" (halfway-to-crazy surf dementia at 4 AM), "Dumb & Fun" (Joy Division-cum-The Stooges, a la the former's "Interzone" and "Failures"), and "Highest Sun" (backing vocals which shine like the brightest Mazzy Star). Automatic as happy rain from an April sky, Members Only awashes in a cleansing shower of feedback and fuzz. No jacket required.
I remember talking to the head Cobra for a couple hours about music over beers at The Taphouse Grill. A band had been scheduled to play on that rainy October night, but a problem of some sort made for an empty stage. No matter. It was still a swell time.
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