The Dirtys

You Should Be Sinnin’ (Crypt)
by Jon Sarre

I’m not sure exactly where in Michigan Port Huron is, but one listen to The Dirtys and I’m convinced that it’s somewhere between Ann Arbor and Deetroit Rock City, like down the street from the Funhouse where the blood shot from Iggy’s syringe dripped from the ceiling and uneasy combinations of speed and guns fended off imaginary assaults from outlaw bikers. That, however, was years ago. The Stooges’ house is now part of the freeway and most of those people are either dead or castrated. Lucky for us livin’ in these PG-13 times, someone at Crypt dug up these cocaine fiendin’, teenage muff-divin’, screeching maniacs who sound like they gargle with battery acid and learned to play the Sid Vicious way: one night, one record and a whole lotta amphetamine.

Blacktop’s Mick Collins set up the mics and recorded the Dirtys as they ran through fifteen examples of ultra-crazed, yell yerself hoarse garage thrash (thematically focused on diverse subject matter such as booze, pussy, coke, pussy, girls, pussy, rock’n’roll, pussy, strippers, pussy, guns, pussy, teen pussy and pussy). Obviously, the Dirtys’ve got all the necessary elements for a great rock’n’roll record: loud guitars, a drummer who can keep the beat real well, a hunkahunka attitude, minimal production values, a sound like the Action Swingers on crystal meth, and all the charisma of a den of vipers. You Should Be Sinnin’ is obnoxious, crude, damn near juvenile, a fuckin’ mess! Even more so, it’s 34 minutes of barely controlled fury; it’s fun (but the type of fun that’ll make yer head spin and yer car crash); it’s damn near brilliant at times! This, goddamn it, is the reason we have rock’n’roll in the first place!