350 pages of LP by LP, song by song, riff by riff, word by word attention to the band that created heavy. All the players, singers, the midgets; all of it.
The shadowy, creepy, misty, doom of Trent Reznor with a cracked mic’n’acoustic guitar strumming away on a crisp New England October night with Edgar Allen Poe.
Really heavy rock; not metal, even as they absorbed that dynamic/language/attack as tots/post-tots as Black Flag rung their bell and called’m home to dinner.