(Drag City) Late 70s Louisville punk given the righteous relic treatment. With an androgynous singer built like a linebacker, a guitarist who must have been intravenously injecting Stooges riffs, and a drummer sonically spooging all over his kit like a horny teenager, this proves to be actual lost gold, not the cookie cutter stuff that too often becomes historic by ancientness, not merit. This early punk, or possible pre-post punk, band (previously most familiar to non-Bluegrass State know-it-alls from a Bloodstains comp) has some arty New York downtown in singer Steve Rigot's great talk sing delivery. His voice sounds like it should be reading farm report, but the conviction with which he delivers lyrics about penisus and guilt and Halloween is jarring. Make sure to listen to "Trick or Treat" with headphones on to hear Rigot violate each of your ears separately. Half of this is barely heard studio stuff and half is sloppy live recordings, adding up to a seriously convincing slab of history. From this to Bastro is ten years makes it seem like Louisville might have had some kind of rock n roll plate tectonic shift sometime in there.
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