Recorded by Tim Kerr, this is sweet, large, ambitious Panorama Dome rock. The failure rate with bands incorporating the milestones in rock is high. It’s a steep slope, but I think The Chargers Street Gang have got the combination to the safe cracked: high voltage, powering Hoover Dam type hooks, soaring, swerving vocals, and a drummer who sounds like he has four arms. When the foot’s taken off the accelerator, it’s sweating grooves (and that’s a test most bands fail). Although everything on this album isn’t solid gold, I still like it plenty. I have a theory. Not only have they passed rigorous riffs and chops commando training, but their appreciation for big rock is a deep well and not just an affection to get all pouty and crank their butts out like a bunch of twenty-first century dandies (such as the Mooney Suzuki). I bet you this: They know the Ron Asheton and not James Williamson version of the Stooges was supreme. In the end, Through the Windshield is a tasteful, yet forceful bludgeoning that fans of AC/DC, The Clone Defects, The Baseball Furies, and anyone who likes hairy balls and punk abrasions on their rock would appreciate. They all share the same viral, itching disease.
–todd (Get Hip)