Memo to Russell: "angst" does not mean "soul-crushing apathy." You might have looked that up before singing this here title track, because…it makes a somewhat marginal song much worse.
Even putting that aside, though, this is the first of a number of really uninspired eighties albums. Nonetheless, there are a few somewhat worthwhile songs. In "Nicotina," we learn that not every cigarette is a dead, dead thing--some have a mind and try to be other things. Nicotina is one such, but alas, in a tragic ritual that must recur quite frequently with these sentient smokes, she get burned to death. It's all very melodramatic. "Sherlock Holmes" is a pretty good, somewhat inexplicable love song. And the ending "Eaten by the Monster of Love" is pretty funny with its refrain of "Don't let it get me! Don't let it get me!"
Most of the rest is pretty bad, though. The wackiness of "I Predict" is incredibly labored, and "Tarzan and Jane?" Christ, I don't know what to say. I do know that some bile must be reserved for--sigh--"Mickey Mouse." It's extremely difficult to know just what the hell was going through Ron's head when he penned this one, which appears to be an entirely straight-faced (and entirely stupid!) tributes to everybody's (for some value of "everybody") favorite rodent. "If a mouse can be special, well so can you." Jesus. This song sounds like it was written for, and very possibly by, four-year-olds (fairness and balance compels me to admit that this video is pretty entertaining nonetheless, however).
Anyway, nothing else can be quite that bad, but this is pretty much an album for dead-enders. Not really recommended.