by Stephen Cook
Making their intentions clear with the indescribably manic garage stomper "Pig Sweat," which kicks off this 1987 album, Pussy Galore proceeds to mash it up dumpster style with 19 minimal short players riddled with the best elements from the Stooges, the Cramps, and the band's own askew, Lower East Side world view. Immensely satisfying and generally disturbing, too, the band delivers a surprising range of moods in the midst of the monolithic beats, out-of-focus production, and pervasive punk snarl; the mix veers from the Velvets-like rockabilly thrash heard on "Biker Rock" and the hard, psychedelic slab of "Loser," to a handful of Sonic Youth and Fall knockoffs. With Jon Spencer spewing epileptic vocals all over the place, Neil Hagerty and Julie Cafritz doing their garage guitar best (or worst), and Bob Bert hurling his mess of trashcan drumming into the mix, Pussy Galore hits new heights of lo-fi fuzz minimalism on this crucial, yet often overlooked, entry into the late-'80s, proto-grunge free-for-all.