Believe me, it's not a fairy tale. I had a CD in the car, used only as a target support.
One rainy evening, I had quite a rough night; I looked at the CD with hatred as if it was its fault.
I stared at it, "Victims Family," the band. "The Germs," the title. I had other stuff, and somehow my anger passed; I felt empathy for that poor, scratched cover from worn-out bank cards.
I put it in the player. Maybe it was the Rum, but believe me, it was a blast.
Hardcore riffs, driven by a killer rhythm section. Perfect technique, general hysteria. A punk funk magazine spun by a furious electric wind. Amphetamine starts with sudden jazz core stop and go. Sudden vignettes. Psychedelic moments like the meditation of a psychopath.
A roundabout where the Dead Kennedys clash with No Means No, moments of misplaced fantasy like a bottle thrown from a window, brawls ending in a good drink.
For the record, they used to record for "Alternative Tentacles," and they are Canadian, and when Canadians go all out, they really go all out.