S.I.D.S is one of those bands the listener will always try to deconstruct. As this tendency is predictable among the literate crowd of homespun musicologists that populate the areas where S.I.D.S. is most likely to find an audience, parsing out which bands S.I.D.S. most closely resembles can be a challenge. In the strictest sense of musical lineage, S.I.D.S. owes a debt, in varying degrees, to Devo, Throbbing Gristle, D.N.A. and Kraftwerk. These comparisons serve only minimally, though, as it must be understood that S.I.D.S. music--if not it\'s psyche altogether--is informed not by the rundown, industrial design of Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald Casale\'s Akron, Ohio, but by the shiny, hyper-realized modernity of Atlanta, GA. And, yeah, that makes a difference. As much as one can hear the primal reaction to a speedy and emotionally neutral culture, there also is an underlying sense of confusion and desperation as if to say, \"No human can keep up with this.\" That\'s really the essence of S.I.D.S. music . This confusion also explains why most of the lyrics are not discernible in the first place, taking a back seat to to the tunes themselves. The tracks on this record send their message the same way a punching someone in the jaw gets their message across: No words need be exchanged, but the point has been made. S.I.D.S. is going to have their say; their purpose is expression, not communication. S.I.D.S. is made up of Adam Stroupe, Josh Fauver, Erin Carmichael and a cardboard cut out of Sid Vicious playing a pre-programmed Yamaha psr-540. The yellow vinyl 7\" includes a cd-r with a hidden track, a dvd of their recent performance at Atlanta\'s Drunken Unicorn, and the artwork of Keren Richter (notkeren.com/Blood is the New Black).