Before there was Bailter Space there was The Gordons, and The Gordons were hardhitting, garagey, couldn't giveafuck shitkickers and they fucking ruled. This was the height of what these guys could do, sparks flying, flywheels coming detached, some relentless robotic incarnation of the Iggy Pop Memorial Hall of Stooges gone broken on a singleminded accidental bydesign bludgeoning rampage.
This is the kinda shit that makes you say "well fucking duh albini wanted on board this shit" because they were totally out-big-blacking him and telegraphing some of the Pixies best 7yearshence tricks while they were at it. That guitar sound, that tendon-throb bass, it's enough to make you want a proper album of this shit, even while you recognize that this little 3-songer was the best possible package for this payload 4.5/5
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