No Comment - 87-93

I've been sitting on this zip file for a long time, trying to put the words together about what this means to me, nearly 30 years after No Comment stopped being an ongoing concern. And I'm still mostly at a loss. No Comment remains an intense, frightening band for me. Like their peers/brethen in Man Is The Bastard and Crossed Out, they were so far out beyond the edge as to make the distinction irrelevant. Listening to this today...shit, I can't really listen to this any more. Not for reasons of morality or quality; there's a darkness to it that evokes very visceral emotions in me, the likes of which I just don't experience in my art all that often and that I, frankly, try to avoid most of the time. I cannot imagine what it would have been to see them live. I probably would have either shit my pants, or gone home and cut myself up.

Tl;dr: West Coast powerviolence fuk shit up. I'm a depressed puss.

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