Sub-Lingual review from the Melody Maker

THEY coulda been contenders, them Cablers. Unfortunately, pop is the most venal, spiteful, mean-minded business oitside of the arms trade, hence a band on the cusp of greatness can get drawn into 12-month legal wranglings that ultimately leave them utterly fucked. The fact remains that an eye-popping band has been forced to throw in the towel way befor thier time. A round of applause then, once again, for THE MAN.
But you know what? Fuck him! Cable are leaving us on a gloriously noisy high. Their warm, muzzy racket is smeared all over this album: "I need some rancid meat right now" they revoltingly holler on the furious blast of "Hexagon Eye", "I need to vomit on my feet", which, as statements of intent go, is pretty unequivocal. "Widower" is a growly beast tempered by some hilarious cracked-up choirboy waverings that points to a less jagged future for Cable that will never be. "Autobahn Head" is a wild, spitting ball of fury buirsting into a sizeable chorus that threatens to shear the track straight off the CD and wrap the little fucker right around your head, while "Arthur Walker" comes from the twisted pop cannon that spewed up XTC, Magazine and The Fall.
But it's the final track, the barely suppressed mental imbalance of "Comprendez?", that's the real highlight. A tingling, fuzzed-up dream of a track, the best song pavement never wrote, that breaks down from it's unhinged "woah-oah!" vocals into a lonely drum pattern. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is yer lot.
The world outside still teems with knuckle-bitingly awful bands, ehile a potentially great one gets royally fucked over. Enjoy your weekend! ROB FITZPATRICK