Due to Jello Biafra's great success and strides with the Dead Kennedys over the past thirty something years, his later work has been condemned to a type of purgatory. When talking specifically about the project Jello Biafra & the Guantanamo School of Medicine, it seems to walk the tightrope between off-kilter and predictable. White People and the Damage Done is the second album from this collective, thus these should be reasonably unchartered waters for Jello Biafra.

"We are the illuminazi, you're the food chain we devour!" – 'The Brown Lipstick Parade' opens the record, surmising the group's aspiration and character in a mere matter of seconds. Instrumentally, this opener often rests on unison guitars and drums which traverse its otherwise straight feel – it's not really as memorable as it originally suggests. Bank-robbing bad man 'John Dillinger' takes the floor next.

On the whole, these ten tracks drift between similar structures, textures and dynamics, this you might expect. In a recent interview Jello was asked about the consistency in his writing over the years and responded "no matter what I do, my songs come out in a certain style and if that sounds like Dead Kennedys then there's probably a reason for it." The truth is, Biafra has an allegiance to his method in the same respect that BB King has to his beloved 12 Bar Blues; whilst it serves to offer a desired platform to the lyrics, it is as frustrating as it is endearing.

Lyrically, it does the do-si-do between obscene, humourous and pertinent. The references to the Kardashians, Opera, and other pop-culture icons make it resemble a neglected, dusty teenage cassette tape, whilst the meatier, more direct songs like 'Mid-East Peace Process' have a good sentiment but lack intelligence and charisma in the wordplay. Snippets of humour like 'Road Rage' are mildly amusing too but it's not exactly Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention or Old Man Fischer.

White People & the Damage Done sounds flat throughout. The dry nature and lack of atmosphere is down to the production, which sounds like a simplistic monitor mix. If this same record was released pre-digital revolution, I guarantee these drums would have sounded more engaging, and not like they've been clicked out on Garageband. As the album progresses though, it has its moments. The title track has a swivelling groove of emphasis and interaction, whilst the Occupy Movement finisher, 'Shock-U-Py' has a mantra-type feel to its memorable, cyclical vocals.

Somehow there isn't enough of Jello Biafra in this record. This is strange when you consider how closely he's worked on the material, but it's true; he's failed to make a politically driven, satirical piece that reflects his own intelligence and relevance.