While the band's cacophonous stew at times surpasses that of the Liars and others of the neo-no wave, T.P.T.B.U.T.E.T. has sprung from the post-At-the-Drive-In screamo scene. So there are song structures and a proletarian effort to rock out, though the sheer unbridled energy makes this a 24-minute prelude to a migraine. Drumsticks and saxophone blurts fly by. Staccato guitar lines follow.
But the usual problems exist. Without the lyric sheet, no one's catching the drift. And the persistent irony of having such commandingly tight, lockstep power while decrying fascist lockstep power goes back at least to the MC5. Fighting fire with fire, Eiffel Tower plans to go down in flames.