ith a sound straight out of Nuggets, The Mummies emit a raucous and perversely lo-fi brand of pure archaic garage rock. You can hear the pawn shop amps buzz with feedback as the band, consisting of guitarist Larry Winther, bassist Maz Kattuah, organist and saxist Trent Ruane and drummer Russell Quan, all vie for the John Darnielle Award for Outstanding Tape Fuzz.

This collection could easily become the catalyst for The Mummies' cult to expand beyond that regressive nostalgia seeking record clerk you try to avoid when purchasing anything post-1965 (remember that look he gave you when you bought that Psycho-Sonic compilation?). Mummies purists will hate you for owning this. They will curse the quality to the pyramids of Egypt; the phrase "sell-outs" might even be muttered in reference to the band capitulating to the apartheid sponsoring compact disc corporations. Ignore them: this is a perfect introduction to these Budget Rock purveyors.

Nearly every tune on this collection is head-bobbingly raw. With twenty-one tracks, though, it's a bit much to sit through in its entirety. Like all great compilations, though, Death by Unga Bunga!! is full of ready-made mix tape fodder. Whether it be the speed-punk of "I'm Gonna Kill My Baby Tonight," the brooding dynamics of "(I Should Better Be Lookin' For) Dangerman," or the pure garage-blues of "(You Must Fight to Live) On the Planet of the Apes,” each track contains a tongue-in-cheek flippancy that has undoubtedly contributed to the cult status of the band. The Mummies humor is most apparent in their choice of cover song. Closing the record, the band pulls of an ugly, uncooked, feedback soaked cover of Song of the South’s “Zip A Dee Doo Dah.”

The history of the band is shaky. Their website states that two members were killed, and the master tapes were lost, in El Niño. The remaining members, it states, traveled back into time to rescue the tapes before they again sunk into the Pacific. While there is no logical way this can be true, listening to Death by Unga Bunga!! makes me believe that maybe, just maybe The Mummies are capable of time travel, the story would explain why these tracks, culled from those soppy master tapes, sound so hollow and damaged. But despite their silly tales, and despite performing from head to toe in Ace bandages, The Mummies are still less of a gimmick band than the White Stripes.