Mickey Moist (aka Dean Ween) and Dickie Moist have created one mean and burley beast of an album that will have you conjuring up images of escaped convicts, white-trash crank-heads, shotgun racks, broken whiskey bottles, and bloodied noses in no time flat. On III the boys have enough piss n' vinegar running through their veins that they make prefab mean and scary acts like Disturbed or the pseudo-redneck posturing of Kid Rock look as weak and fake as they really are. Each song on III is played like these boys' lives depended on it, with their stripped-down, barebones, raunchy punk metal-blues that feel like ZZ Top's Tres Hombres, Hell Bent for Leather-era, Judas Priest, and Black Flag circa Damaged all rolled into one. III never lets up for a second, going simultaneously for your jugular and funny bone with such classic song titles as "Shitheel," "The Tweaker," "In the Valley of the Sun," "Great American Zero," and "I Am the Reaper." Lyrically, Dickie Moist is just as twisted, angry, and crass as ever, spouting out dirty jokes and images that, if you don't offend easily, are worth a good laugh or two. Moistboyz prove on III that, joke band or not, they've got the right riffs and enough attitude to hold their own against any hard rock band out there. You can also bet that one listen to III by any earthy, mellow fan of Ween will have them running straight for the hills quicker than you can say crystal meth.