Doomettes' first Christmas EP, written and recorded on Black Friday and Small Business Saturday, 2012. Originally released on floppy disk, limited to 12 copies.

From the review site Yeah I Know It Sucks:
There is practically nothing I love more than receiving a belated yuletide gift, at the start of April no less! Xmas is usually that time of year that being out in public makes me feel like an absolute freak. The familiar jingles fill the airwaves, and I mentally replace every other word in them with an expletive out of fatigue with having heard the fucking things a billion-and-one times. Crotchmas music is a menace to society, shitting up your head for months like an infestation of earworms putting holes in your brain and filling them with more of themselves. After years of being subjugated to it, it’s amazing more of us aren’t in hospice, no motor function left, no control of our bowels. It is obvious, then, why the drooling masses appreciate the garbage so much. I don’t know how many of you out there have ever met any “pop snobs”, but I like to bring up Krismas music any time I’m in the vicinity of one as the be-all end-all of pop music – because it’s totally true, and a point that is easy to argue and irritate with. It’s the only music, Stateside at least, that is absolutely guaranteed to be playing until the end of all humanity. Vehement and Grinchlike is my hatred of Crapsmas music. Everything dies in winter, gets fed upon by the parasitical prion we call Gristmas music and the deathly, corpulent jolly conjured forth by capitalist institutions in order to sell LOTS OF SHIT never ceases to annoy me. But gifts, I will leave alone. Those are mostly ok, when well intentioned. The true meaning of the holiday, if you get right down to it, beneath all the layers of fluff and pine, is the culture of the meaningful gift. So, I put the decrepit tree back up, strung up some lights, got a cookie and a glass of milk – or a milkish substance that really could have been anything – and prepared myself to re-enter the domain of Shitsmas. Ho ho ho.

The first track is titled ‘A Christmas Wish’. A searing, lofi noise blast sets us off like chestnuts roasting on an open fire… a fire which soon gets out of hand and starts burning the house down after the vocals come in, which are enticingly low in the mix.

Next up is ‘Man On The Wall’, with very strange warbled noise run through what sounds like one of those travel amplifier that come with some cheap guitars. Speaking of guitars, we are soon treated to two of them, a bass and a distorted electric guitar, then a whistle that leads into vocals. The vocals sound a bit like Glenn Danzig on prozac and the noise shifts interestingly in certain places, screaming in your ears on occasion but more often sounding like a distorted fax machine. This is probably my favourite track on the album. The vocals are taken to a whisper later on, saying “man on the wall” over and over, then “imagine what he sees”… I imagined, and immediately it felt like Santa Claus was watching me take a shit. It’s a very eerie feeling to say the least!

‘I Feel Bad For Jesus’ is the closer, starting up with minimal plucks of a guitar, very melodic and nice in it’s simplicity. Then, the vocals… wowee zowee! The lyrics in particular are very amusing, the sounds varied. We hear distorted guitar, even what sounds to be a uke or a banjo! An eclectic end to a very peculiar and endearing floppy disc album!

So I’ve made my list, checked it twice, to try and find out if this album was naughty or nice… and I think it’s a little of both. One minute it’s decking your balls, the next it’s taking you on a sleighride through a winters wonderland, of snowy lofi noise.