Indie kids instantly bestowed Next Big Thing status upon Clinic with the release of the band's 2000 debut Internal Wrangler, an album of psychedelic garage rock unlike anything that preceded it: cavernous underwater reverb, eerie synths, the incoherent high-pitched mumblings of a vocalist who sounded like his wicked foster parents frequently locked him in a dark closet if he didn't finish his steak and kidney pie. But reactions to their following records (2002's Walking With Thee and 2004's Winchester Cathedral) were less enthusiastic: rather than "maturing" or expanding their sonic horizons, they simply ran with their singature sound. Apparently, only The Ramones were allowed to do that. Personally, I'd be content if Clinic continued making practically the same album and playing practically the same live show every two years.

Or maybe they just hypnotized me with their trippy visual projections and the sound of whatever that instrument's name is- you know, the tiny keyboard with a plastic tube that you blow into. So maybe it's bullshit when they claim to wear their surgical masks so audiences will focus on the music rather than their appearance. They're surgical masks for Chrissake, of course we're gonna notice them. But the shivers down my spine, those were real deal Holyfield.