I'm gonna throw up a bunch of re-ripped slabs over the next few weeks, and Gob's opus seemed a fine place to start. When I posted the "Kill Yourself Commandment" LP the first time, I think I just stole some rips for upload, and that just doesn't cut it. Tonight we have the 320 treatment for one of the most sour affronts to music ever committed to wax. Gob took everything our ears have been taught to hold sacred and did things to them that are still considered illegal in some states. If you like your noise rock violent or your violence noisy, Gob might be your favorite band, or they might make you rethink your preconceptions about such trite labels. I hate name-dropping, so I won't mention that Mr. J. Kortland of Iron Lung was one of the Gob masterminds.
"Dear bicycle, I shall not call you bike, you were green, like so many of your generation, I don't know why. It is a pleasure to meet it again. To describe it at length would be a pleasure. It had a little red horn instead of the bell fashionable in your days. To blow this horn was a real pleasure, almost a vice... What a rest to speak of bicycles and horns."