The guttural snarls of a vicious, rabid vocalist clawing at your throat. The crisp, punchy cadence only a live drum set could conjure. The penetrating, sharp-tongued lyricism spearheading songs covering topics most are too afraid to speak up on. With California’s Race Car, you get absolutely, positively, UNDOUBTEDLY, fucking none of that – not unless you consider songs about go-karts and in-school suspension to be “touchy”. No, you instead get four steaming, shitspeckled hot ones from a wannabe cowboy – Raymond A.K.A. “Shrink Ray” – armed with nothing more than a drum machine, twang-loaded guitars, various mechanical noise-makers, and more importantly, an intense hankering for SPEED. No, not the amphetamine, I’m talkin’ SPEED: Race Car’s customary unit of measurement for HOW HARD HIS MINI-GAS-GUZZLERS TEAR UP SUBURBAN STREETS. Believe me, the quirky, garage-y nature of these pastoral earworms won’t detract from how much these songs’ll rip up the highway to your earholes, “hombre” – these records might as well be soaked in gasoline. Unlike Raymond’s later project, S.B.F., you’re not gonna want to expose this four-track EP to an open flame. Grippin’, rippin’, and straight-up scorchin’.