I can imagine the flipside “Summer in Hamtramck” on the soundtrack to a Jim Jarmusch film. It’s dirty, sensual, and immoral. The guitars ooze all kind of sexy love juice while the pounding rhythms collide into an orgasmic explosion. Oh, oh, the sax, don’t forget the big sax, slithering an improvisational burst in the midst of the song. “Harder, harder,” she said as she flipped the disc over and haphazardously slammed the needle down while trying not to break from the beat of her “music appreciation.” The primitive drums kick off “Mexican Leather” and the sloppy wet guitar slide back and forth, back and forth the long, hard, wooden neck of his guitar. He screamed into her ears, loud and clear, the intense gratification he felt during the song. She sighed, lit a cigarette, and called her boyfriend after she heard this single because she felt strangely guilty.
–nam (Big Neck)