"Harvey Milk has got the formula completely wrong* - an album this heavy shouldn’t be so twistedly, bizarrely funny**. Rock-solid songs shouldn’t be filled with musical allusions that lie somewhere between parody and plagiarism. The opening track shouldn’t have cartoonish dynamic changes, cutesy falsetto vocals and Christmas tree lyrics. But the total package is completely, utterly entrancing. It’s a beatifully choreographed slow-motion wreck, with wailing vocals that sound like the dying howls of some sadly-deformed monster and roaring guitars that twist through songs with painful, wrist-snapping torque. It’s crushing, lumbering, wry, furious, and bitter and fed up and smirking. I mean, it’s worth a listen.
Quiet segments are highlighted by clunky piano chords and off-tune falsetto crooning, which only attests to the absolute rawness of the album. The rough edges aren’t at all smoothed. Chords are drawn out like some drunken elephant trying to keep it’s balance - teetering on the edge of collapse before correcting, shifting their enormous heft to the other side at the last moment, massive front leg drawing small circles in the air before gravity pulls it back to the ground in an earth-shaking thud only to stutter, wobble, overcompensate, and start the process all over again. Raspy yells are held too long, the voice wobbling out of pitch into a bitter howl***."- Jon's World of Delusion