2017 release. Pow! Continue their danse macabre in the laser glow of hi-beam synthesizers, with a new batch of synth-punk candy that will rot your teeth. Vacuum-sealed, chrome gleaming, propulsion pounding, eyebrows arched and slightly pixelated, this album is like the cupie-doll face beckoning from a digital billboard outside your hovercraft window. From a none-too-distant dystopia and on to your turntable - VCFs slowly open across a smogged-out horizon as they urge you to take that "Necessary Call," warn moodily against a "Cyberattack," and inexplicably "Crack An Egg" in honor of the human race. Synthetic earworms squirm into and out of view like twinkling city lights through evening's opaque air, feasting on terse punk skeletons. The neon is buffed to an aerosol sheen by Chris Woodhouse behind the blinking motherboards, with a streetlight or two of Gary Numan's slanting through the door. The automatons know where the party's at - follow them.