What the fuck is there to do in Spencer, Iowa? Where the fuck is Spencer, Iowa is probably a more appropriate question however. Well, if you happened to be dwelling in some basement in the late 70s and want to make your parent's poodle go deaf you could have recorded one of the all time heavy, heavy fuzz symphonies. That's what this guy did. My, My...there's almost too many reasons to like this one. It's got the whole loner appeal. There's a girl making out with a fucking mummy or something on the cover. Fuzz that will cave in the soft spot on a baby's skull. Plenty of ineptitude which always equals awesomeness. And so much more. No joke, there was a long period where I didn't know of this album's existence and upon first hearing I had an instant connection with this album. No great Joycean epiphany or anything, just one of those moments where the sound you've been dreaming about for years is finally heard. So thank you Mr. Lyle Steece.
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