The stories surrounding this band could all be mythology at this point, but honestly, it’s very convincing. Literal, indiscriminate violence is what you get, and the music is just as confrontational. The slow-motion misanthropy of Flipper seeped in the hot coal Texan hate of The Dicks. Soaked burlap vocals that justify the creation of The Day My Kid Went Punk, which came out the same year—1987—this live set was recorded. Drug abuse, lewd acts, and violence may be the quick ticket into the Punk Rock Hall of Fame, but we have to remember that there was a time when no one expected to be remembered. To think SMWRG had any foresight into the legacy they would leave seems optimistic. What they’ve left us with is deranged, destructive, and undeniably cathartic. Bobby Soxx, RIP. –Daryl (12XU)