Black Flag
Loose Nut

THE REVIEW

What’s the point of repeating oneself? None. 'Screw whoever repeats themselves. Maximum respect for Greg Ginn and his band of merrymakers who, once they had canonized Hardcore with "Damaged", making it as fast and fierce as possible, let their hair grow and put Grateful Dead back on the table, proudly turning up the volume.

STOP: the spliff is removed from behind the ear, it's lit up; we slow everything down, riff after riff, more flamboyant as we have fun. FORWARD!

After instructing the Melvins and the three thousand sub-genres—from metal to Tibetan folk music—that the latter baptized with "My War" in their hearts, after creating a career for Fu Manchu with "Slip It In", obsessed with the post-Ozzy Sabbath tapes which they blasted in the van while traversing up and down America, they unleash their delinquency.

Those who know them describe them as industrious ants who slept under the desks of SST offices and who divided their time between high-quality weed and a Dan Armstrong in a sort of neuron-mashing ritual aimed at finding the lost riff. In 1985 alone, they wrote, recorded, pressed, and distributed two albums and an EP. "Loose Nut" is the first to come into the world. The older brother, the black sheep, and bad example for the rest of the offspring.

The explosive start of “Loose Nut” with those guitars spreading from the speakers at the speed of light; “Bastard in Love”—half stolen from the Pistols and half from some cheesy Hair Metal band—that even the folks from MTV would have liked and that gets stuck in your synapses when Henry Rollins starts shouting “my love is real, my love is reeeeal”; ultra-tracked panzer—making even Tony Iommi of the good old days drool—before unleashing chaos under the stage for “Modern Man”; “I’m the One” to be listened to only after ten o'clock at night and with a few liters down, with that verse riff you end up whistling for a week; slow procession like a black mass, Sabbath spinning around again, before exploding in the refrain: “Now She’s Black”. Vocal cords that nearly snap.

BOOM: everyone laid out on the ground. The record is over. Go in peace or play it again and get busy.