If I have to choose from the post-Stooges discography of the damned toxic iguana, I’m putting my finger right on Kill City, recorded in '75 between one day pass and another from a psychiatric clinic where he was hospitalized after his brains went "puff" for the first time... Filthy, rough, and essential Rn'R (with a hint of twisted black music) recorded in a haphazard way where rawness and sickness ooze from the pores of my stereo, which is a wonder.
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