...theres a whole mess o' thud'n thump punk rock screech goin' on with this super-nice collection o' crazed swill, both live 'n studio from late '70s'n on for a decade...its th'sound o' bad drugs'n cheepo-cheepo beer all peculatin' ready to explode...something approachin' a less arty flipper with th'freeform spirit o' 77style punk, this trashed out combo from th'bowels o'NYC have always been true to th'underground rockin' vibe'n never sold out...layabouts with strong views on such matters can be assured that list'nin' to this is th'real deal'n not some flakey-foont type squares lookin' to snag some bread with cookie-cutter-punk...this is true aural slop from th' back alleys'n basements o' abandoned buildin's, where junkys lurch 'n flop in a stupor bought on by an excess o' society...

...its been said that theres a little bit o' elvis in every cat out there across th' planet, all things to all men, cats'n otherwise diggin' some elvis, whatever period theres some rockin' goodness...in fact as to how all encompassin' th' king may be, any hepster givin' th' ballad bowl from th' movie period a scoop gonna see that when th' king launches into possibly dull'n lifeless songs theres still a magic goin' on, th'personality shines through like a beacon'n for many thats a beacon o' hope from th' anointed one, anointed by his peers'n contemporaries...dedication was th'watchword at recordin' sessions, elvis always had to get on top o' a tune(if not necessarily into a tune on th' whack ones he hadda do sometimes due to connivin'n finaglin' from col. tom'n his record co. cronies)otherwise it didn't happen, it was discarded, another take took place til th' king was satisfied...this dedication was recognised by th' teens'n they got hep to all things that th'memphis cat had on offer...over th'years th' audience came'n went, times changed'n then th' king was back in 68 blowin' up a singular storm o' lounged out rockin', exactly what th' original fans woulda wanted then, adult entertainment for th'50's generation stuck in th' middle o' vietnam/hippy madness...then into th' seventies with more'n more amphetamine/morphine madness takin' his concerts into some kinda netherworld, a psychedelic cocktail land full o' gin daiquiris for th'suburban legions who were floodin' to th' gigs, gettin' th' ultimate buzz that'll send 'em to gonesville(relatively speakin')...its true that there ain't nothin' like an elvis presley concert'n this boot from his second to last gig shows to good effect that testimony to good rockin'...recorded 06/25/77 in cincinnati by an enterprisin' audience members from england it all starts with a smatterin' o' grooves from th' openin' acts(th' kings backin' singers)'n then when elvis is ready his theme tune bursts through th' P.A.'n th' crowd erupts, like beatlemania all over again, th' girls screach'n scream like theres no tomorrow...even at this late date in his medicated burger career th' power is there, full on no stoppin' him, th' fans're wild for sight'n sound o' th' greatest entertainer o' th'20th century...hearin' this gig from a casette player deep in th' audience is a wild trip, takin' th' list'ner deep into ELVIS-WORLD,into th' cavernous belly o' th' beast where th' intrusive outside is forgotten, locked away from disturbance...cats who aint really heard too much elvis might need to adjust th' parameters o' list'nin' cos th' kings gigs aint like a normal rock gig, aint like no lifeless nightclub schlock, its outside th' ordinary by virtue o' its extraordinary ordinary, unquantifiable/unqualifiable, in a class o' its own, number one in a field o' one, never comparible cos nothin' comes close...elvis' command o' showbiz was like no other, its a natural vibe from a real cat, who its gotta be remember'd had no ten-plate to work from, its happnin' on a weirder scale than any previous star/celebrity due to th' unprecedented scale o' communication open through television, TEEVEE blasted th' king into an orbit that aint stopped for half a century, th' king is everywhere from exploitation nonsense to university thesis'n all points in between, all worthy because its all connected, one thing leads to another, there aint no good/bad elvis, its beyond such bougrgesoise concerns, theres no competition in ELVISworld, everyones a winner cos th' king digs his fans to th' upmost, always wonderin' what it was they saw in him, what made him click like no other, th' king could never figure it out(no one else cared),th' memphis cat always had time for th' real people, th' place where th' king originates, deep within th' underclass, th' downtrodden, th' cats jipped by squares with cash sellin' dreams, elvis turned that round th' dream he sold was real as real cos its so unreal, as said nothin' compares cos there aint no competition cos elvis is everywhere, bein' everyone/everythin' at th' same time...dig th' cover with its exploitation graffic, true gonesville beyond any concerns o' good'n bad, it communicates on all levels, blendin' in whilst standin' out, is it to be any more than what it is, a gate way to th' otherside o' HEP where it all blends into high art trailer trash livin' on a LAS VEGAS cash blowout...dig this trip from th' end days for its all about to become planet ELVIS here-on-in...