Review from Austin Chronicle

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FUCKEMOS
Celebration!
(Man's Ruin)

In 1993, anyone disoriented enough to opine that Austin's Fuckemos would still be batting out product five years down the road would have been goosed out of the room in no time flat. And rightfully so. The Fuckemos divisive, love-or-hate appeal is grounded in the slippery idea of stumbling toward relevance by accident and against all reason. Celebration! finds the band continuing to evade the crash-and-burn with 12 cinderblocks' worth of slobbering drunk rock hilarity. Give credit to the pitch-shifting vocals of lyrical wünderkind Russell Porter for keeping things afloat with his terminally depraved wit. Though the music's ugly veneer combines bad heavy metal card tricks with careless, sneering boy-punk, there's a surprising pop sensibility beneath that crust. Meanwhile, Russ regales us with songs about everything from bird droppings and bladder control to playing tennis and bisexuality. This album will sound best thwacking off solid concrete walls, but even if your digs are a bit less Spartan, you can count on Celebration! to scruff things up a bit. (3 STARS)

Review from Outsight

CELEBRATION
Man's Ruin, 610 22nd St. #302, SF CA, 94107
mansruin@sirius.com
It is so passe to be heterosexual these days, that a strong "celebration" of being 'unhomosexual' has not crossed my ears since Sloppy Seconds sung "I Don't Wanna Be A Homesexual." Fuckemos are, obviously by the name, so rowdy and rude, they can't maintain a working relationship with the clubs in their own town. This is all part of their charm. Also, is the swinging rhythm in their songs. I believe if you were to hang out at their pad, you'd see old Dead Boys flyers on the wall, but they'd be listening to ABBA. (3.5)

Review from Austin Chronicle

FUCKEMOS
(IFA)
Somewhere between "Frank's Bicycle," a detailed narrative about Kozik the poster guy and the Fuckemo who stole his bike, and "Barf Baby," about the pleasures of throwing up, you begin to get the idea the Fuckemos aren't very nice people. And when the last song is "White Sunshine," a paean to what has become known as the date-rape drug, you're sure. So they're not the best neighbors. "It's gettin' very hard to hold my feelings back," goes "Be Nice Don't Be Mean." "I've taken many pills here and I want to kick your ass." But if the Fuckemos are mean, their nasty blend of bloodbath riffage, death-metal vocals, and bludgeoning drumming is even meaner. Like they say on "This Land is Your Land" (that's right), "This land was made for you and me." Don't like it? Too fuckin' bad.