Options during Winnipeg's winters are few. You can play hockey,
drink, or you can pick up a guitar. After a snowfall, long nights are
frequented by road crews, who dump endless truckloads of salt and sand
onto a contorted patchwork of asphalt and concrete. On a mild day, slush
is sprayed everywhere by traffic, turning what could have been a winter
wonderland into a sea of ash. True of most cities that experience
winter, but in Winnipeg there is something unique in how people resign
themselves to this contamination. There are those who don't, who
struggle under its weight. Hardcore punk, in its heyday and by
definition, was an immediate expression of desperation. Under Pressure
thrives in it. Come Clean is not a celebration; it is not a ticket to
paradise. It's salt and grit. The album was too long in its making,
twisting and tempering a result, which is nonetheless immediate and
visceral in its impact, just as it should be. (yellow dog)