To say that the Meatmen reunited after 12 years to make Cover the Earth is only to say that singer Tesco Vee put together a new backing band to perform under the group name. Recording a covers album is a way for him to pay tribute to his musical mentors, many of whom were to be expected. G.G. Allin ("Highest Power"), Roky Erickson ("Don't Shake Me Lucifer"), and the Fugs ("Slum Goddess") are all Vee's spiritual brothers, and he performs their songs with affectionate accuracy. Among the many punk and metal selections are a few outliers, notably Jimmy Dean's "Big Bad John," the Temptations' "Psychedelic Shack," and ABBA's "So Long." But they only serve to broaden the humor of the set. Vee's pseudonymous colleagues on guitar, bass, and drums are surprisingly competent, and the frontman himself is assured. He may not be a great singer, but for the most part he is re-creating the work of other marginal vocalists here, so that knowing the words, keeping on the beat, and singing with conviction get him over his technical limitations, making this an enjoyable romp, at least for those who don't demand that their humor be entirely tasteful. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
After the Blood Sausage and Crippled Children Suck EPs helped stake the Meatmen's dubious claim to rock godhood, We're the Meatmen and You Suck!! helps slam the door completely on that particular notion. Recorded in front of a live New York City audience whose members presumably knew exactly what they came here for, We're the Meatmen has the same confrontational spirit as, say, the Misfits' Evilive, but one-tenth of the talent. In large part, this is because Tesco Vee is a (admittedly intentionally) terrible singer and raconteur -- take his introduction to "Mr. Tapeworm," demonstrating, among other things, what said tapeworm sounds like. More than once, his singing is mere gargled up-and-down hooting. Give him credit for knowing the ridiculousness of what's going on -- thus his a cappella rendition of the opening verse of "I Sin for a Living," which demonstrates clearly that Meatmen lyrics are best heard in a blur rather than recited as poetry. More than once, the musicians save Vee from himself -- the switch between hyper-speed thrash and slow-burn attitude on "Orgy of One" almost distracts attention from Vee's beefily voiced description of the joys of masturbation on the midsong break. Meanwhile, the otherwise unrecorded "Buttocks" finally gets the whole Meatmen aesthetic, if you will, down right -- Vee merrily uses the chorus to shout out "Buttocks, buttocks, I love buttocks!" over a surf-punk combination that's sheer hilarity. This is perhaps all related to the claims about girls who sh*t on the band's faces later during the introduction to "Meat Crimes," if one wished to investigate in more detail. Yes, the whole thing is perversely, stupidly funny -- but really, it only needs to be listened to about once every five years, if that. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
With Tesco Vee's Dutch Hercules proving that chugging biker metal, parodic or not, was arguably a better platform for his intentionally over-the-top attitudes toward uncoolness (i.e., anything not Tesco Vee), War of the Superbikes turned out to be the icing on the cake. If Dutch Hercules' "Wine, Wenches and Wheels" was arena rock satire to the nth degree, War of the Superbikes blurred the line even more, with not one but two Minor Threat refugees -- Lyle Preslar and Brian Baker -- embarrassing themselves with what one hopes was knowing rather than unconscious meta-metal wankery on their part. Certainly nothing else could explain the likes of the Iron Maiden sex fantasy "Pillar of Sodom" and the jaw-droppingly over-the-top flamenco pornography of "Kisses in the Sunset." That said, there's a fair amount of stuff that could easily have fit on some of the early Meatmen stuff, but in its own weird way the role model is less Meatmen and more Meat Loaf, if on much less of a budget. The title track is one of the best things on here, in a comparative sense at least -- the ridiculous lyrics rival films like Streets of Fire for narrative coherence, and Vee certainly sounds like he's having plenty of fun setting himself up as the equivalent of the Anti-Nowhere League's Animal. Meanwhile, calling a song "Abba, God and Me" -- while not trashing either Abba or God in the lyrics -- has to count as a first for Vee. The schizoid nature of the album can best be noted with the two covers on the release -- the Pagans' proto-punk rampage "What's This Shit Called Love" (complete with fake country start on Elvis' "Love Me Tender") and Nazareth's whiskey-soaked boogie "Razamanaz." Ridiculous highlight -- the goony DJ rap at the start of "Punker-Ama," at once juvenile and just plain hilarious. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide