Blunt Cutters CHERRY RED

Mansfield’s masters of mucking about return in daft glory

Lawnmower Deth straddle the Nottinghamshire/ Berkshire divide

NICK PARKES/PRESS

METAL FANS OF a certain age will always have a soft spot for Lawnmower Deth. A lager-fuelled riot of goofy thrash metal, punk rock and Olympic-standard titting about, these Nottinghamshire reprobates released three ridiculous but great albums in the 90s, and always seemed to be having more fun than everyone else. These days, thanks in part to numerous performances at UK festivals, metal fans of other ages are obliged to join in the fun too. After all, who can dispute the uplifting power of listening to what is now a bunch of middle-aged berks in shorts and stinky old tour shirts? Exactly.

Arriving a slightly tardy 28 years after their last album, Blunt Cutters is immediately identifiable as the best-sounding record Lawnmower Deth have ever made. Opener Into The Pit is a certified ripper, showcasing the fact that, all silliness aside, these veterans have sharpened up over the years and are a much tighter and more destructive unit than they were when they recorded Betty Ford’s Clinic and Satan’s Trampoline back in the day. In every other respect, Blunt Cutters is a big, stupid dose of top-notch Lawnmower Deth rowdiness.

There are songs about priests (Now He’s A Priest), snails (Raise Your Snails), unsavoury ailments (Space Herpes) and, perhaps inevitably, gelatinous grease-remover Swarfega (Swarfega). There are countless shout-along choruses and moments of pit-inciting yob-metal fury.