"What's all this got to do with rock music?" Quite a lot if you like your music heavy with messianic menace and free from the almost obligatory irony that robs so much British music of emotional purity and intensity.
Sod's Law marks the welcome return of Kirk Brandon after a lengthy period of illness, but spare the sympathy, he doesn't need it. This album has enough good songs on it to balance both bank balance and back catalogue. Worthy of mention: The jaunty, mystical Into the Rising Sun with its lush, Gaelic touches and cock–eyed, summer–in–Siam lyrics; Black Country Girl starts off as a painfully naked ballad but carries it off with such lyrics as "feels like I'm in some country song about drunks, whores, and broken hearts." Then there's Taking Care of Business with its cutting funk guitar, In the City a tunnel–busking, tears–in–yer–Guinness ballad, and Bull Comes Down, a real stomper with its own pair of Doc Martens and a muscular forearm full of tattooed lyrics.
Kirk's voice is still the same thin, reedy, tonsil–less instrument that carries so much venom and passion. It kind of puts you in mind of a poisoned needle, and, just sometimes, when he's jabbing it around in the belly of the beast, you think it's going to snap, adding, if a little uncomfortably, to the sense of danger and excitement in SOD's music.