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"Visceral with banale urgency, staccatic in rhythm, dead & burning on the water of the disparate 00's Sydney punk scene. Constantly showing neither a desire to arrive nor leave, but never looking to stay. Like a rabid dog at an obituary, low life have more or less been the soundtrack of a decade
of decay in this city. But like an eel in the Cooks River, their dogged sound continues to move against the current, through the mud and beneath the surface, & the light that does find its way through the water reflects from their skin; unnerving, uninviting & unwelcome, but brilliantly present as a dull & constant luster."
