Wow, think in 1980 as it was in the days of California or England, pre- or those yobs from Stoke-on-Trent in the U.K., or even in Washington, D.C. This was Lansing, MI, heart of the rust belt and as rusty and messed up as Detroit. , a paint-peeling quartet, were tearing up basements, restaurants, and even frat parties with their brand of light-speed uncontrolled aggression and no-future (after all, they lived in the center of it) simplicity. They were howling to the all-but-deaf masses (remember that where came from, bands were doing , , and covers in bars to get the cash from drunken college kids). There were a few dozen in Lansing who got the message -- was one of them and had the cojones and craziness to put them out on his fledgling label, the logical outgrowth of his and 's cool-ass D.I.Y. rag. And now, 26 years later when the pair -- and the cats in this band -- are middle-age codgers, , who inherited the label and made it the standard for indie labels since that time, issues both singles (the 7" and EP), a compilation cut, outtakes from the sessions, and a live tape of unknown origin on one shiny little silver platter. Yeah! It's for those who were there, those who wish they were, and those who only read about this mysterious band that helped to define the Midwest's scene. This is proof that the legend more than lives up to its whispered-in-revered-tones hype. Guitarist (who shattered all the original racial stereotypes of ), "singer" , drummer , and bassist were it. There are 24 unruly, unbridled, completely savage cuts on this slab, all of them worth your left arm if -- the real thing -- is it. There aren't words to describe the sheer savage wail and whomp of this baby -- just slap it on and get your butt kicked as you scratch your head and wonder what happened to it all and how all these later kids can call themselves bands. In the words of the old mag chart, this stuff is "the goods." ~ Thom Jurek