The Catholics had to invent time travel or be attacked by Dr Krang just so they could snow upon our brain cells so much. At times as savage as a charging T.Rex and as doomed as a dyind succubus, they always keep their Jack the ripper’s lancet sharp fuzz guitar sound at hand.
Nonetheless, it is challenging to try and recite the composing elements of such a sound nebula. From bad KFC lunch memory fueled balads to the wailing laments of a disarrayed gallant, these four boys surf on grimy waters.
Skipping from paradoxes to oxymorons and having fun with it, the Catholic Spray feels just like the wild bunch cast away in the lost world.