For years, the ultimate in alternate sources of power, only to suffer slings and arrows unimaginable when they signed onto the label the Knack recorded for.
Big, cracked-crystal pop songs with as many noises crammed in as a Sonic Youth or a Hendrix record, but with a steady eye on the perfection of the landscape.
“Telephone” is a good four minutes of poppy, punky new wavy whateveryawannacallit, as if John Lydon heard the Go-Gos and decided PiL wasn’t infantile enough.
A sustained burst of tonal improv, with the ubiquitous Jim O’Rourke on hand, which pulsate with ionic radio wave-bursts, trumpet bleats and near-ambient drifts.
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.