Before I’d even heard a note of Boris the Sprinkler’s music, I was already a fan of their infamous frontman Rev Norb thanks to his often irreverent and always entertaining column in Maximum Rock’n’Roll. It was however, only a matter of time until my punk rock obsessed, completist brain forced me to check out Boris the Sprinkler and I’ve never been more indebted to my grey matter than I was the day I purchased Saucer to Saturn. Unlike most of the bands that I listened to, who were powered to the point of meltdown by righteous anger and fury, lyrically and musically Boris the Sprinkler had more in common with The Dickies than the hardest of hardcore and whenever I needed to be reminded that maybe the world wasn’t so bad after all, I’d spin a Boris record and the dark cloud that seemed to follow me incessantly would briefly dissipate. And now they’re back. Nearly twenty years after they last released an album, Boris the Sprinkler have returned to make the scene smile again.
From the word go, it’s business as usual for Boris the Sprinkler as Vespa to Venus opens with a laugh out loud funny bastardisation of the Green Lantern Corps oath before launching into the full throttle I Tell Ya! Tonight! Tonight! that hits like an exploding soda bottle that’s been all shook up by a Toledo bound chunky Elvis impersonator in a second hand, ill-fitting Vegas jumpsuit. Before you can even think about picking your jaw up off the floor, Boris launch straight into (She Got Da) Wonk Shicky-Shicky Wonk Wonk! and before you know what’s happening, and while your jaw is still on the floor, they’ve cruised through the other fourteen Ramones meets the B-52’s soon to be juke box classics on Vespa. There are a hundred different reasons I love this band, and Vespa to Venus is packed full of sixteen of them. Punchy, infectious pop punk at its absolute finest. Tim Cundle