'Dirt' displayed a band in contempt of the whole tedious recording process. It was a snotty raucous middle finger salute, and amen to that. 'Dead Wood' continues that contemptuous assault, though I detect an air of weariness. Perhaps it is the odour of cigarettes and alcohol in the air. American 'grunge' whined about losers. Australian swamp, as is the case here, testifies to the no hoper in the so-called Lucky Country. That, to me, makes The Stabs' brand of swamp true Australian punk. Amen.