This is pure trashy rock’n’roll thunder. Sleazy, primitive, raucous, and loud, the way real rock’n’roll is meant to be. Cranked-up and delivered straight to the jaw with a swift, one-two powerhouse jab! DMC belligerently blast it out like the New York Dolls, Dead Boys, The Heartbreakers, Supersuckers, The Lazy Cowgirls, and a spazzed-out hyperactive Chuck Berry tweakin’ on an undiluted batch of vein-poppin’ trailerpark meth. Indeed, there are very few groups who’ve ever attained this level of balls-out audial intensity! It’s exactly the kind of snotty rock’n’roll dirtiness that inspires long nights of sexual decadence, drunken obnoxiousness, drug-fuelled sinfulness, and other such sordid debauchery. It’s hard’n’heavy musical madness that profoundly stirs the senses, vigorously shakes the spirit, and aggressively possesses the soul. The devil’s frightfully cowering in the shadows, Sid Vicious is chatterin’ his teeth and rattlin’ his dogchain, and Johnny Thunders is nervously rollin’ over in his grave, ‘cause they’ve all been whupped by the savage sonic sauciness of them DMC boys. Hell yeh, my ears are motherfuckin’ eternally grateful for this skull-splittin’ 7-incher. Bottle forward, bottoms up, and here’s to the greatest rock’n’roll band on the face of planet Earth!