The Blue Flames

Wild and wooly psychotic punkabilly rowdiness crampacked to the tantalyzin' tee with pulsatin' perversion...deviantly degenerate ditties switchblade-slashed with evil atomic ampings and nasty sleazy S&M naughtiness... latex and leather audial lasciviousness which sandblasts your ears with an abrasively raucous blend of sonic insanity and roaring whirls of garish pinup-girl giddiness! Cacophanously combine the decadent auditory plunderings of the Stooges, the voodoo cemetary vampings of The Cramps, the dark and tortured debauchery of 45 Grave, the hedonistic hell-raisin' haplessness of the Damned, and the gutter-tramp ferocity of X... there you have the Satan-spawned Blue Flames, folks! Yep, this lil' heartcrusher of a cassette is a musical motherlode of rampaging brilliance and feverishly impassioned rock'n'roll grit to be blasted LOUD at ear-damaging decibels...
This is primal voodoo-crazed rock'n'roll swagger at its sleaziest, naughtiest, and most outrageously immoral-- it's savage and untamed Texas-style psychobilly madness that's as evil, vile, indecent, and debauched as a sweat-soaked free-for-all orgy in Hell but as sensual, sleek, and cool as a leather-jacketed Marlon Brando hoodlum casually struttin' his stuff in the primitive black-and-white world of "The Wild One".
Imagine a sadistic Betty Page goddess lewdly frontin' The Cramps; Johnny Cash as a vampiric leather-clad vixen backed by The Damned if they were a hootin'-and-hollerin' group of rockin' Mississippi Delta swamp-rats; a trashed-out Concrete Blonde thoroughly drenched in cheap booze, sloppy meaningless sex, and other delightfully taboo conjurations of the devil which eventually drain a man's soul dry; or X as a rowdy bunch of musical cattle-rustlin' bandits performin' in a ramshackle saloon along the tumbleweed-strewn streets of Dodge City during a raging apocalyptic dust-storm.